


Harry Potter Barely Features

by BookshopLaura



Series: Harry Potter Barely Features [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookshopLaura/pseuds/BookshopLaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young muggle woman finds herself teaching muggle studies at a Hogwarts. Hogwarts: where dead people won't stay dead, the students learn everything she doesn't want them to and a strangely familiar pair are teaching the students 'defense against the dark arts'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - The One With Dead People

**Author's Note:**

> This is a half serious cross over with Harry Potter and Doctor Who (and more, for the larks) Any feedback is more than welcome. Please feed back. Please!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an arch and it's strange. And hidden that deep and behind that many doors, it should probably be left alone. Which is why a mad man in a long trench coat and a pin stripped Jacket is probably just about to let all Hell break loose when he comes to have a poke around.

The arch stood in the centre of the room, and the man stood looking at it, hands in pockets. He didn't like the way that the veil fluttered lightly in a breeze which was not there and was a slightly fluid looking grey. But it didn't Look dangerous.

"So" said the woman standing next to him, arms folded, breaking the silence. Her eyes avoided the arch.

"Can we go yet?" she questioned rubbing her arms as if she were cold.

"Do you know what this is, Donna?" questioned the man, hands still comfortably in his pockets.

"Yes, I read the books, that's where dead people go" she said in a convicted voice.

"This isn't the Sixth Sense, Donna. You're not telling me that you really believe all dead people go behind that arch" he said condescendingly.

"That's what it said in the book!" she yelled back as he stepped forward.

"Yeah, but that's just a story" he said hastily.

"Oh, course it is, and I'm just imagin..."

The doctor interrupted her and continued, scrutinising the door. "No, this look is good, too good in fact, it's brilliant. So wizardy, so 'Ye Olde Arche'. It's hiding something"

"Yeah, dead people!" said Donna exasperatedly.

"Donna! Be serious" The Doctor leapt up the steps to the arch and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He buzzed the side of the arch, his hand at an odd angle.

"I knew it, I knew it" he mumbled, teeth clenched.

"What?" questioned Donna, who hadn't moved. Her arms remained crossed.

"It's disguised, like the Tardis, and it's bigger than it looks as well. It's some sort of storage unit. And if I just take a look, we can find out what's inside."

"Doctor, that's a really bad…" However it was too late, something clicked and the veil seemed to disintegrate from the top down and in an undignified manner bodies began to tumble forwards out of what seemed to be a huge space inside.

"I told you it was full of dead people!!" Donna screamed at the Doctor. The pile up was occurring on both sides and the bodies underneath began to squirm. A sound like an ancient fog horn sounded all around.

"Run!" yelled the Doctor.

A moment later the rasping sound of the Tardis de-materialising could be heard as the first of the bodies began to wake up.


	2. Chapter One - The One with a New Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people get new jobs and they're not quite what they seemed at the interview. And then there's Trish Glossop. Who thought she was going to be an English teacher at a posh private school called Hogwarts.

Meanwhile…  
As she sat back on a train heading out of Liverpool Street, a young woman felt decidedly uncomfortable, and it wasn't just the seat, although that didn't help. Outside the windows was merely black, she was on the underground, but it didn't matter because she wasn't admiring the view. This job that she had accepted seemed more dubious the nearer she got to King's Cross, and it had seemed pretty fishy to begin with. Firstly the interview had taken place in a Starbucks. Then the interviewers had refused to let her see the school, even a picture, until the beginning of term. They wouldn't tell her what subject she was to teach. She was asked about her opinion on ghosts, about how much it took to frighten her, if she had a lively imagination, and how she coped with new situations. She had also been asked whether she liked cats, toads, owls, spiders and pumpkin juice. But that was nothing compared with those asking the questions.

There had been a severe looking lady, dressed in an old, pink, flower print dress with a large, floppy bow at the back, and a frilly collar, which seemed to clash with her tight bun and pursed lips. Another rather larger man with an amazing beard had been wearing a huge Hawaiian shirt with beige shorts and sunglasses and had sat muttering about the small size of the largest caramel crème frappuccino. The last was a friendly ginger man in an old tweed suit who kept talking about things like televisions and computers using words like "fantastic" and "incredible".

If it wasn't for her contact and extreme desperation for any kind of job, Patricia Glossop would have presumed it was all a wind up and walked out. But she really needed the job and the money. Then again she'd probably never get there. The ticket she had been sent (obviously hand delivered as it had no stamp on the envelope) seemed to say platform 9 and ¾ and last time she had been to King's Cross there hadn't been room for ¼ platforms. The ticket itself was written in highly flamboyant writing on what appeared to be parchment and Patricia couldn't see National Express issuing tickets like that, even to royalty. Or accepting them, for that matter. But she'd soon find out, she was at King's Cross.

The station, like all London stations at that time of day, was swarming. She made her way over to platform 9 in attempt to work out what was going on. She saw the large wall where platforms 9 and 10 met and stared at it in the vain hope that a poster or person might appear to explain what was going on. As she looked, a child rammed past her with a huge trolley knocking her sideways slightly and as she looked up she could see them careering towards the wall she had been recently staring at. In her mind she could see the dreadful mess, the child clutching it's stomach, the suitcase smashed and it's contents spilling on the floor and the trolley crumpled, but a second later she realised she simply wasn't seeing it.

The child, trolley and suitcases were simply not there. She looked beyond the wall to see if, by some miracle, it had changed course at the last minute, but no child could be seen hurtling down the platform. She would have presumed she was mad, if a moment later another child had disappeared the same way. It was beyond belief, it was illogical, and stupid, and she walked around mentally shouting at herself for a while until her brain, always a rebellious instrument, convinced her it was worth a try. So, clutching her own bags, she walked slowly up to the wall. She put her bags down carefully and pushed her hand against the wall. It was solid, and remained so when she pounded her fist against it. Muttering at her brain, she picked her bags up and in one more annoyed gesture kicked back against the wall. Suddenly she was flying backwards.

She opened her eyes to see a vaulted ceiling far in the distance, but nearer was a circle of curious faces regarding her with a mix of concern and amusement. It was with embarrassment that she realised that she was sprawled over the floor.

"Are you alright there?" asked a more helpful bystander.

"I…I think I'm alright" muttered Patricia. Leaning forward to feel her head she saw one of her bags had sprung open, its contents spread across the floor, and amongst it were some embarrassing articles of underwear. Going bright red she jumped up and started cramming them into the case. In the background she could hear children laughing. Going bright red she angrily slammed her suitcase shut and turned to glare at the children. Unfortunately her glare did not last long.

"You have got to be kidding me!" she muttered, as her mind registered the trolleys of owls, cauldrons and other dubious articles, kids in what looked like capes and the steam train at the platform. He brain back peddled and replayed the last part, a steam train! She slowly stood up.

"Are you sure you're alright?" said the helpful voice again.

"Yeah I'm f…" said Patricia, turning round to see a man in what appeared to be a dress and a pointy hat. She fainted.  
When she came round she could here muttering.

"Just look at her clothing, She's a muggle. Merlin only knows how she got here. No wonder she fainted, her brain probably can't cope." Patricia didn't know what a muggle was. The nearest she could get was mug and she couldn't understand how her smart skirt, shirt and blazer could make her look like one of those. Then she considered the clothes of her employers and changed her mind. She sat up to find herself on a bench by the side of the platform. She reached up to rub her eyes.

A friendly face came into view, with freckled cheeks and cropped ginger hair.

"Hi, Ginny Potter. You fainted, what's your name?" Her head thumping Patricia rubbed her forehead.

"I'm Trish, Patricia Glossop, I'm meant to be, to be going to Hogwarts School? I'm a teacher. They sent me this ticket." Saying this she handed the woman the crumpled ticket she'd been clutching since she got off at King's Cross. The woman took it and looked at the ticket.

"You're a teacher? What subject are you teaching?" asked the woman still smiling.

"English, but covering History or Drama or General Studies. I think that's what we agreed." The woman surveyed her somewhat anxiously.

"They've really dropped you in the deep end." She was about to continue when the whistle blew.

"Oh, you better go," and with that Patricia was bundled into the nearest door with her bags.

"No going back now" thought Patricia, as the platform fell away into the distance.  
On the train Patricia had to walk past compartments of inquisitive and sometimes rude students, increasingly in a strange version of what she assumed was a uniform, and eventually she reached the end of the train where, thankfully, the last carriage was free. She dumped her suitcases on the chairs next to her, and started routing around in her handbag. She had to call someone, anyone. She didn't know what she was going to say but talking to a sane person would help. She pulled out her mobile and flipped it open.

"Middle of London and no signal!" she growled.

"You're the muggle who fell over at the station aren't you" came an arrogant voice from the door.

"I'm certainly a something" she said thinking about her situation. Slowly she looked up at three boys standing in the door, a small blonde boy with an arrogant smirk and two larger boys, with darker hair and a look that lacked intelligence.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly is a muggle?" The boys laughed at the question, and Patricia decided that it was a bad thing, whatever it was.

"You mean they never told you? Muggles, muggle, are dirty, stupid, non-magic people."

"Which makes you, what, the world's biggest 'smooth seven at seven fan'?" she asked quizzically, adding  
"It's just a radio station" under her breath. 

"We're wizards, muggle, so you better watch yourself" snapped the young boy his smile fading, guessing that she was mocking him. She realised she was, but just couldn't figure out how. "Wizards? You're the youngest 'wizards' I've ever seen." She said beginning to release they may not actually be joking.

"Don't make us prove it, muggle" said the young boy pulling out a stick and pointing it threateningly at her. His friends followed suit.

"You know" said Patricia, "that name is really beginning to grate on me. I'm your teacher. So you will show me the respect owed to a teacher and at school you will be punished for your behaviour on the way here." For a moment the boys looked stumped.

"You can't get us for this, muggle; we're not at school yet" The boy seemed to reassert himself but put his stick away, and after a moment the other two copied. Trish stood up.

"Now you see that's funny, because you appear to be in school uniform and where I was at school, and where I taught before that meant school rules applied. So I'll just take your names. If not I'm sure I can find them out from another teacher at the school" She went to her bag and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. The boys looked annoyed, then the one at the front smiled and said.

"I'm Ian Percy Freely, and these are Christopher Cross and Joseph King. All in Gryffindor house." Patricia looked at them, with an eyebrow raised.

"Fine, and what year are you in?" she asked. Once the boys were gone, she walked along the train until she saw some children in red and yellow ties. They reminded her of her own house, from school so she entered the compartment.

"I'm sorry to disturb you guys, but I need your help. I'm Miss Glossop, I'm going to be a teacher at your school, I need to know the names of some boys who just went by. A short blonde boy and two larger boys. They're in the green house."A girl in the red house spoke up, she was obviously a first year, with auburn hair and greenish eyes.

"That's Scorpius Malfoy and his gang; he's in my brother, Albus' year. And they're in Slytherin" Her voice was quite but confident.

"Thank you, and what are your names?" she asked, taking out a pen and pad of paper.

"Lily Potter" said the last girl quietly, looking away. The others looked at Lily.

"Lily, that's a nice name" said Patricia still writing, unaware of their strange looks.

"Haven't you heard, Professor, about her family" said one of the girls, staring at Lily with open interest.

"Professor? No no no! Call me Miss, and what's this about your family. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine"

"Everyone else is talking about it, Professor, about all them back from the dead."  
Patricia's quizzical face convinced them of her ignorance so they past her a paper. The front page picture appeared to be moving but she swallowed and looked at the headline.

" 'Dawn of the dead' " read Patricia. "Un-be-liev-able"

'At 3am this morning alarms were raised at the Ministry of magic, when it was discovered that the arch beneath the ministry, widely believed to contain the souls of wizards and witches, was pouring forth it's grizzly contents. Wizards from many generations, numbering possibly in their thousands are rumoured to have been released. Unfortunately in the ensuing stampede that occurred, a number of those are thought to have been trampled. The ministry has not yet confirmed events, but a number of witches and wizards are believed to have left before being identified. The ministry asks the public to remain calm until the situation can be assessed, but the Prophet has information suggesting that as well as Dumbledore, former headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, James and Lily Potter, parents of the famous Harry Potter, He Who Must Not Be Named and many of his followers are rumoured amongst those raised. Anyone whose relatives are included amongst the formerly deceased will be contacted by the ministry forthwith. Any sightings of previously deceased persons should be immediately referred to the ministry'

Patricia looked up quizzically. The name Harry Potter rang a bell, and in her mind there were images of a cold, dark classroom with an old man scowling. There were lots of chemicals and a distinct smell of fear, failure and burning in the air. Then it clicked, her chemistry teacher, old Harold Potter. She had failed chemistry. She'd also blow up his science lab once, by putting a match to a large jar of hydrogen whilst he was out putting the potassium away. He had not appreciated that, especially since he'd lost all his windows. She smiled slightly to herself.

"I'm presuming this is serious?" she questioned.

"Yes, my Dad got an owl from the ministry this morning" muttered Lily.  
For a moment Patricia wondered if she'd missed something Lily had said, then wondered if she'd misheard it. But in no way could her mind make owl sound anything like letter, note, fax or call. "Why?" she said eventually.

"What?" replied Lily confused.

"Why did your dad get sent an owl? Was it a present or a warning or something; like in the Godfather?" said Patricia, trying not to think how stupid it would look if it turned out Lily had said e-mail.

"What's the Godfather?" This time it was Patricia's time to stare at Lily. But before she could exclaim her disbelief at someone having never heard of the Godfather, her friend condescendingly continued,

"You're the muggle aren't you? Owls carry messages for witches and wizards."

"Well I suppose that's one way of doing it but if this (she pointed at the article) really is true, what's so bad about it. All these people are back, isn't that a good thing"

"Professor, You Know Who is back. Nothing could be worse." Said the condescending student.

"Miss! And I don't mean to sound dense but I don't know who" said Patricia getting a little stressed. 

"Professor!! How can you ask that in front of Lily!!!" replied the student.

"Because I don't know. I'm a muggie thing remember. Until this morning I thought magic was a London radio station." She laughed slightly at her own joke and saw the girls looking back at her blank faced.

"Muggle's have radios?" said Lily. Apparently the idea of someone truly unaware of her family's history had brightened her up.

"You have radios? Do they run on magic?" questioned Patricia.

"Of course, how do muggle radios work?" asked Lily.

"Using electricity. The radio station broadcasts sound, speech or music, across the air on radio waves. It's received by a radio which turns it back into sound. I don't know the technicalities. So can someone tell me what's going on?"

"Well, Prof…" began Lily's vocal friend. At that moment the train arrived at it's destination and Patricia had to run through to her own compartment to collect her bags. She was pushed onto the station to see the huge man with the beard who had been at her interview. However instead of the dreadful Hawaiian shirt, he was wearing a long brown robe. She tried to shout to him, but she couldn't remember his name, couldn't even remember if he'd given a name. He seemed busy with the year sevens, or first years as he was yelling, and the crowd was huge and loud. So she walked over to where a load of carriages seemed to be standing around pulled by fleshy, red horses, which most of the students seemed to ignore. She decided that it was probably a very normal thing for them, but not for her. She dropped her bags and very quietly threw up in a bush by the way.

"Are you alright Professor?" asked a student she hadn't yet met, but who had obviously heard about her. She realised how silly she must look throwing up at the sight of the transport.

"I'm just a little travel sick" she lied. Standing up shakily she forced herself to smile.

"Can you just help me to a…a…a…one of those."

The carriages rumbled up a long drive, which didn't help Patricia. Her queasy stomach didn't respond well to the motion or to the sight of what was pulling the carriages. What sort of crazy school was this? It turned out to be an impressive looking castle set in large, wild looking grounds with a huge lake and a large forest. She could feel a slight sense of panic setting in, and a vague feeling of wanting to turn around and go home, but she concluded it was nerves and ignored it.

As the children piled out of the carriages she noticed that none of them seemed to have their luggage with them. Personally, she wasn't so happy leaving her luggage in their hands, but it was then she realised they hadn't been put on the coach and all she had was her hand bag. So she calmly walked up the steps, following the students. In the entrance hall she saw a group of what she presumed were teaches, by the sheer fact that they were adults. The woman who had been at her interview was chatting, now wearing a long dark green dress with a pointy hat and Patricia had to admit that it suited her better than the pink flowery monstrosity she had previously been wearing. She seemed to be stressed. When she saw Patricia she went pale and ran over.  
"Professor Glossop, I, but, how? How did you get here? We meant to send an escort to collect you this morning, but I'm afraid you've been overlooked, we're somewhat in the middle of a crisis. Who picked you up?" She looked past Patricia as if expecting to see someone.

"Nobody, I came by train, I'm sorry, I can't seem to remember your name" she said.

"Oh apologies m'dear Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, but how did you get the train, how did you get onto the platform?" she said looking at her with something resembling awe. Patricia could feel herself going red remembering exactly how she had.

"I…I managed,"

"How did you know to go there though?" questioned McGonagall almost accusingly.

"I got the ticket you sent me" McGonagall went a pale colour.

"What? Oh dear, I need to send an owl urgently. Come here my dear," With this Professor McGonagall lead Patricia into the rest of the group.

"Professors, let me introduce Patricia Glossop, our newest Muggle Studies teacher. I'm sure they can introduce themselves, I'm sorry m'dears but I must dash." And with that she was gone, leaving Patricia surrounded by a group of expectant faces.

"Hi" said Patricia awkwardly. The group stared at her for a second. Then a very short man stepped forward.

"How rude of us, Professor Glossop. My name is Filius Flitwick, Head of Charms. This is Sybil Trelawney, Head of Divination, Alida Stevens, Administrative Assistant, Cuthbert Binns, Head of History of Magic…" and that was the last Patricia heard. She looked at, or should I say through Professor Binns and then all was dark.


	3. Chapter Two - The One with Informative Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trish wakes up to a world gone mad. Where the sanest person seems to be dressed as Elizabeth 1, where EVERYTHING can talk and worst of all, where her phone doesn't work.

Trish came round a few moments later surrounded by anxious and inquisitive faces, for the second time that day. She was on the floor, laid out length ways and her head hurt, a lot. A lady appeared on the scene as she was becoming conscious; wearing what appeared to be a very old matron's outfit, similar to what Trish had seen on an episode of 'Call the Midwife', only with longer sleeves. She started talking to the man who had identified himself as Filius Flitwick.

"It was a stupid and irresponsible idea having muggles here in the first place. Probably scared out of her wits, poor soul. Second time she's fainted today, one of the students told me. If you ask me she needs a lift home and a strong memory charm."

Trish could feel the blood rising in her cheeks in anger. She was no damsel in distress. Gritting her teeth she forced herself to sit up. The blood went to her head but she remained conscious.

"I'm alright, I've just got a headache" The woman looked at her as though she were a child. Trish leant down to root around in her bag. 

"It's alright, we understand. You'll be home soon" She said and she patted the back of Trish's head.

"Ow!" yelled Trish, pulling her head away, and running her fingers carefully over what felt like a rather large lump in the back of her head. The woman looked at her in an offended manner.

"I barely touched you"

"I'm sorry," said Trish, rubbing the lump, even though that made it hurt more. 

"I think I've got a bruise there, that's all, maybe a bit of a cut too. I had a bit of an accident this morning." One of the students observing giggled then added.

"Yeah, she fell into the platform, and showed the whole school her bright red bra with ribbons on it!" The onlookers looked at her, some merely quizzical, a couple slightly disgusted.

"My bag broke and they fell out, but I did hit my head against the floor" explained Trish carefully examining her finger tips  
The woman examined her injury, holding her head an annoying angle, and pulling at her hair slightly more than Trish appreciated.

"When did you first faint?" she quizzed

"Shortly after doing that?"

"And have you been sick?" her gaze didn't move from the bump. There was a pause and then Trish mumbled,

"Yes"

"Hmm well that explains it" continued the woman matter of factly.

"You might have a mild concussion" she added looking away from Trish's head.

"I've got some potion that helps head injuries up in my…"

"I'll take an Aspirin"

"Professor Glossop, that muggle rubbish will have very little effect, it could take a couple of days to heal if left to itself" The nurse sounded scandalised at the idea.

"It's Miss Glossop and I'm sure that it will stop hurting in a few minutes, once I've taken the Aspirins" Defiantly she opened her bag and took a small packet out, took out two tablets and swallowed them in one. The nurse looked offended, but said nothing, bustling off quickly making huffing noises. A young lady with long white blonde hair in a dark red robe, with yellowy sleeves and came over to her and helped her up, as the rest of the teachers and pupils dispersed to head into the main hall.

"Well done Miss Glossop, you have beaten my record." she said indicating the door to the hall.  
"Excuse me?" said Trish turning to observe the young looking woman in an old fashioned looking dress. It was so old fashioned in fact it had flared sleeves with inner sleeves. It looked like something Anne Boleyn would wear, but Trish felt it best to keep this comment to herself.

"You have managed to offend almost everyone within 5 minutes of arriving, it took me at least an hour. I'm Alida Stevens, the administrator" Trish looked at the woman questioningly.

"They don't like having an administrator here at Hogwarts. I was imposed on them by the ministry, and they see it as an invasion of the schools independence. As was your appointment, and you go directly against the ideals of at least one of the school's houses. So you've lost a quarter of them already. Then you've annoyed Binns by fainting on him, so the ghost's will be against you. And I doubt Pomfrey will help you out on that matter now you've refused her help. You've fainted twice, not a reassuring start and your wearing what most of them would consider unprofessional clothing"

"Oh" muttered Trish.

"Oh it's alright. Some words of advice though. Don't try the pumpkin juice, it's a cardinal sin to hate it, and you will hate it. Apologise to Binns and soon. And at some point soon go and complain of an upset stomach to Pomfrey and praise the potion she gives you, she's very proud of it. Just don't compare it to baby Calpol. Somehow she has heard of it and won't take it well." Said the woman conspiratorially.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Trish as they entered a large hall.

"Part of my job, human relations. They don't do much of an intro here, but it' not your fault. Chin up." Trish took the time as they came forward to observe the room. There were eight large tables in the middle of the room, presumably two for each house and at the end, length ways was a long teachers table. Candles floated mid air and four ghosts floated amongst them chatting with the students. As the teachers walked forward, Trish looked up to see that the ceiling wasn't exactly a ceiling but a reflection of the sky outside, dark blue and cloudy.

"Impressive isn't it" said Professor Flitwick as they sat down.

"Better than anything muggles could achieve." The note in his voice wasn't vicious but condescending and Trish was beginning to dislike it intensely.

"You obviously didn't see the opening of the London Olympics." said Trish looking down at the table, sitting up a little straighter and fiddling in a bored way with some cutlery.

"It's amazing what technology can achieve these days"  
"I suppose it was entertaining" said Professor Flitwick looking offended. He turned away just as Trish remembered that she supposed to be making a good impression.

It was then that the headmistress, the teacher Trish had seen in the dark green dress, stood up and started speaking. It was a pretty basic welcome back speech, some information and warnings. Shortly afterwards the large man without the Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses came in leading all of the first years. McGonagall explained about a process with a hat which was brought forth on a stool. The different houses were detailed and Trish reached into her bag and pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen and began scribbling. McGonagall was beginning to call the children up. Trish started slightly when the hat first talked but found that the second time she was prepared and by the third that she was actually quite enjoying it. Then Lily was called forward and, to rapturous applause, was placed in Gryffindor. Finally McGonagall stood forward.

"This year we have a bit of a novelty. For the first time, we have three teachers joining us who were not students here at Hogwarts and so will need to be sorted themselves. So may I ask Professor Smith, Professor Noble and Professor Glossop to step forward for sorting please" Trish went bright red and realised that everyone was looking at her, but not only at her.

It was at this moment that she saw that she was not the only teacher dressed in what she would consider normal clothes. A youngish man and a youngish woman stood forward at the other end of the teachers table. The woman was ginger and wearing a long light green dress with a large belt and looked to be enjoying herself a lot. The man also had a broad grin across his face, but he was wearing a blue pinstriped suit, with converses and gelled up hair. He stepped forward confidently before McGonagall could call a name, and she had to pick the hat up quickly before he sat on it. She raised it briskly above him and almost dropped it on his head. The hat seemed to consider for half a second then yelled.

"Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw!" Trish could have sworn that in the tone there was a hint of fear in the hat's voice, but she dismissed it. What could a talking hat fear? Anyway, the blue table were cheering and everyone else thought it seemed normal enough. Next the ginger lady stepped forward. The hat was placed on her head but sat there for a little while. Finally it yelled.

"Slytherin!" The green house clapped unenthusiastically. They were obviously decided in their opinion of the woman, who was glaring daggers at the man in blue. He had one hand in his trouser pocket and was rubbing the back of his head nervously with the other, pointedly not making eye contact with her. She stood up icily and walked towards him as Trish took a seat on the stool. The hat was placed on her head and she could hear it speaking but was aware that not everyone could hear it. She was glad about this.

"Hmmm what have we here? A muggle, not really right is it. Stupid enough to come here, so not Ravenclaw. Scared by a ghost, so not brave enough for Gryffindor."

"I have concussion! Anyway I'm still here aren't I!" thought Trish angrily at the hat.

"Content to be a teacher, hardly ambitious enough for Slytherin. So let's see what we have left. It'll have to be…"

"HufflePuff!!" shouted the hat. Trish could feel the sigh of relief from three of the houses and a depressed attempt at a clap from the yellow house, looking at each other grumpily. She was the reject in the reject house. What was it they stood for? Hard work. No brains, no bravery and no ambition. The yellow house, always the losing house, wherever you went. She'd really wanted to be in red, as she'd been in red in her previous school in London. She had helped the head of house push the house from third to first. She'd even ran the three-legged teachers race and sang in the schools x-factor.

Somehow she couldn't see anything like that going down well here.

Then the feast began and Trish forgot not to drink the pumpkin juice, politely pretending to choke on it, and then leaving the rest. No one was fooled. She was surprised by how many of the things to eat were familiar. After the day she had had she had been expecting nettle soup and elm bark, but instead she had roasted meats, vegetables, pies and all sorts, and quickly decided that, apart from the drinks, she was going to like the eating arrangements here.

But now it was coming up to six o'clock, the children were being lead out of the hall and the teachers were getting up to leave. Alida Stevens, the administrative assistant came towards Trish with Professor Smith and Professor Noble in tow. Professor Noble looked annoyed and threw an accusing glance at Professor Smith who avoided looking at her.

"I'm showing you to your rooms. If you'd like to follow me" asked Alida politely. As she lead the way, Professor Smith jumped forward rather enthusiastically to speak with her. Trish turned to Professor Noble.

"So what are you teaching?"

"Oh, I'm not a teacher, I'm Professor Smith's 'teaching assistant'. It's a new thing, now that "You"-"Know"-"Who" is back." 

"Don't you think it's strange how all the other teachers were once students here? Where did you go to school?" asked Trish. Professor noble seemed somewhat taken back by this question and took a moment to reply.

"My…my Granddad home schooled me. My Mum's a witch..." Professor Smith snorted loudly at this.  
"I'm sorry, Donna, but..."  
"You say anything about my mother and I will brain you. And that's after I've you got back for putting me..."  
"Donna, and I travel...ed together... to get here." said Professor Smith jumping in on Professor Noble's rant. Professor 

They continued on in silence for a while, up stair cases that moved, past pictures that muttered. Trish was far less fazed by the experience than she was expecting. She thought about escalators and web cams and wondered what the wizard equivalent of the internet would be. They stopped a few moments later just before a large portrait of a man in what Trish would have considered a bright purple dress.

"This is the teachers corridor. All of the teachers sleep in rooms along here, except the heads of houses who have rooms near to their house common room. The password to get through this term is 'cobblers'." They approached the portrait.

"Password!" demanded the portrait of an old man with moustache wider than his face. 

"Cobblers" said Trish immediately and the portrait swung open.

"But can't you tell who we are?" asked Trish, immediately realising how stupid it must look for her to be talking to a painting.

"Anyone could appear like you" stated the portrait obviously.

"Yes, but anyone could hide round a corner and hear someone else use the password, or somehow get hold of it? Then what? It's not very secure, is it, saying it out loud"  
The man in the portrait stalked off to sulk in another portrait. As they walked on Alida gave Trish a slight smirk.

"I've been nagging them to change the security here for a year. I just hope Sir Francis comes back soon or the other teachers will really hate you. This first room is yours, Professor Glossop" said Miss Stevens, opening the door. This revealed a room designed in a slightly more modern, or at least less gothic style than the rest of the castle. The walls were white and a picture rail ran round the top of third of it. The bed at the back of the room was a four poster, but not a chunky one and it had pale curtains on it. The lights were candles or gas lamps but there was a wide set of windows on her right, with doors leading onto a small balcony, surrounded by roofing, with a pleasant view of a lake. On the left was a door leading into a nice bathroom in a more modern style, with gas lamps already lit as it had no windows. At the front of the room was an old fashioned writing desk and a sofa, also old fashioned.

"No electricity?" questioned Trish, thinking of all the gadgets she'd got backed in her bags, which she then found stacked neatly inside a huge wardrobe she had opened.

"No, I'm afraid the magical energy surrounding Hogwarts is so great that it does not allow electricity" was Miss Steven's even reply.

"If you've got anything that works on electricity, I could see what I could do?" offered Professor Smith smiling inanely.

"I did a little work with electrical-magic sychronisity for the ministry" he added quickly as he saw Alida's quizzial look then gave a 'what?' look to Professor Noble who was shaking her head. 

"Well I've got a Laptop, an I-pod, a mobile, ipod, a hair dryer, straighteners, a Nintendo DS and a radio, so any help would be appreciated" Trish said calmly, looking at Professor Smith, expecting a reaction, but the smile didn't budge.

"Right, well here's your key. The door bolts on your side as well and is spell proof so no students should be able to interrupt you even if they do get through the portrait. I'll come and collect you at eight o'clock this evening for the teachers get together in the staff room. But apart from that you have free time till tomorrow. Now I'll show you two your rooms" and with that the other three disappeared. Trish went over to her sofa and fell back onto it. It was harder than it looked. She closed her eyes and held her head in her hands and tried to be sensible.

How could she be sensible? She was in castle full of people who thought they were wizards and witches, with ghosts and ghoulish horses and talking portraits and moving stair cases. She half expected to see a single hand running around on errands and Frankenstein serving dinner and then wandered to herself if any of these people had seen the Addams family. Probably not, and they probably wouldn't be amused by it either. Imagining McGonagall's un-amused face watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks sent her into hysterical giggles. It was ten minutes before she was able to start un-packing and making a note of all the things she needed to get.

At eight o'clock Alida came to collect Trish and took her down to the staff room. The room was quite large with an ornate fireplace and a number of nice seats. But at first Trish was merely over-whelmed by the number of staff crowded into the room, giving her evil looks. She was surprised that she could remember most of them from dinner. No sooner had the door closed when McGonagall began,

"As many of you will know, a number of teachers from Hogwarts, from the past, have returned from, well from…and their wish is for their jobs back. Obviously this causes some... issues but considering out current predicament it has worked quite well, staffing wise. The ministry has demanded it anyway so we must all live with it, as best we can" McGonagall seemed very sad, Trish thought, for someone whose friends had come back from the dead. She wondered how long it had been since they had died. She also made a mental note to ask someone what "the ministry" was.

"Professor Albus Dumbledore will be returning as deputy head and Professors Severus Snape and Charity Burbage will be returning to their previous positions. Remus Lupin and Alastair Moody are also joining us as Defence against the Dark Arts teachers. Some previous students will also be returning to finish their education."  
The other teachers seemed more struck by this than Trish did, as a murmur immediately started. Clearly they knew what the names meant.

"Unfortunately it is not simply the recently deceased who have… appeared, a number of those from Hogwart's more distant past have also returned including Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw. The founders will wish to come and see what has come of the school so please be... prepared for that." Trish's train of thought about why so many peoples first and surnames here began with the same letter was interrupted by a whisper from behind her. She resisted the temptation to turn round.

"That's a good point, Donna, remember that"

"Hang on, couldn't that be to do with…" but Professor Noble was shushed as Professor McGonagall continued.

"On a lighter note, as you may well have noticed, Hogwarts has been expanded yet again this year, as was planned. Now we have 30 children in each year. Due to this expansion it has been considered that the work load for heads of house and heads of department are too great to be carried by the same person. Over this first term time we will consider the suitability of the staff for those roles and by the end of the term those roles will be split. Professor Bunbury, will you please take Professor Glossop through the Muggle studies syllabus tomorrow, so that she's ready for lessons to start on Monday." With that the meeting ended and Trish was ushered out.


	4. Chapter Three - The One with a Pillow and Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't start well, Trish is introduced to people, and things don't start well, again.

Patricia had been looking forward to waking up late in her four poster bed with light streaming in the windows to the sound of bird song. She'd even looked forward to preparing for her first classes on Monday, now that she had seen the syllabus and how she could work with it. Unfortunately for Patricia she was not going to get the lie in she had hoped for. She was woken rather abruptly in a blind panic by the sensation of not being able to breath and soon discovered the source of said sensation. 

She opened her eyes, but she couldn’t see a thing. She could, however, feel the pillow pressed hard over her mouth and hear the cackling laughter coming from above it. She struggled, grabbing the pillow with her hand and kicking with her legs, scared even more when she found nothing holding it on the other side but a cold breeze, and then finally she managed to push it away from her. She threw herself off of the bed and onto the floor. 

Looking up through a haze of her own mad hair, Patricia could see a small spectre clutching her pillow to his stomach whilst doing somersaults in the air, laughing at her. He had a waistcoat on and a horrid little face, and Patricia suddenly became very angry. It wasn’t the being laughed at that Patricia hated the most, although that was freaky and insulting. She knew that this would be all over the school by breakfast, that every child would jeer at how she had been scared by a ghost's practical joke and she’d never control them after that. That was if they let her stay on after that. 

“You don’t scare me!” she screamed, the blood rising in her cheeks.

“So that’s why you scream and faint like a girl, Muggle!” and he blew a raspberry at her. 

“I am girl, you twit! Now give me back my pillow!” she shouted, more forcefully than before and, not particularly sensibly, ran for the ghost. He was floating over the bed, and backed over to the wall, taunting her, as she dived across the bed. He then quickly flew back across the room, and, whooping, flew through the door. Unfortunately, although he could travel through solid objects the pillow could not, and she could see the strain as he kept hold of it. Trish was back across the room by this time, and grabbed the pillow. For a few seconds they grappled then suddenly he let go and she went flying to the ground. Seething she jumped back up and flung the door open to see him flying in fits along the corridor. 

“You come near me again and I swear I’m calling Ghostbusters, you murdering b…” she trailed off as she finished the sentence, becoming aware of the crowd of people standing behind her. She also became very aware that she was wearing messy pyjamas with blue teddy bears all over them, and had hair that looked like an angry afro had a fight with a whisk. 

“Professor Glossup, what is the meaning of this uproar?” came McGonagall’s high and scandalised voice. 

“It’s Trish, not Professor! And he started it!” she said gritting her teeth, throwing the pillow down violently and turning around to face the crowd of teachers. Some appeared to be wearing various articles of far more embarrassing bed clothes than she was. McGonagall stood at the front, hands on hips, looking frustrated. 

“What did he do now? Hold you in midair? Make your clothes fly about the room?” asked McGonagall. 

"Start a pillow fight?” added Professor smith, who seemed to be wearing the same pin stripped suit he had worn the day before, looking at the pillow she had gripped in her hand over a pair of glasses she hadn't seen before. 

“He tried to suffocate me with it” she said feeling more justified now in making a scene. 

“Don’t over-exaggerate, Professor Glossup, what exactly did Peeves do?” asked a woman in stripped blue pyjamas, who Trish vaguely remembered was called Rolanda Hooch. 

“He held a pillow... over my mouth... while I was asleep. What else do you think he was trying to do!” snapped Trish. The teachers suddenly seemed more serious. Professor Noble stepped forward, followed closely by everyone else who quickly started chattering. Half of them seemed to be asking her if she was alright and the others urgently nattering about something. A voice came over everyone else. 

“Please, everyone, can you go back to bed, I will deal with this …incident. Please, everyone, yes you too, Professor Noble”. 

Professor Noble grudgingly did as she was told, as did everyone else. 

“Now Professor, I’m sorry, Patricia, are you alright? I mean really. This is a serious incident. I've never know him to show murderous tendencies. I shall have to report it to the ministry and I’ll have to try and get the bloody baron on side to keep Peeves in line.” She seemed to be saying this last part to herself and seemed rather distracted. It was only then that Trish realised that McGonagall was fully dressed in a long red gown with a matching pointed hat. 

“Are you alright, Headmistress?” she asked, looking enquiringly at McGonagall. 

“Call me Minerva m’dear, yes, I’m a little distracted, a number of teachers who used to work here are coming back tonight, I got up this early to greet them, they’ll be here in an hour. But are you sure your all right? You should go back to bed, do you need a pillow?” she said looking and what remained of Trish’s

“I’m fine He…Minerva,” said Trish, with the same voice as if she had said Headmistress. “I don’t feel like going back to bed after... I could really do with a hot drink though” 

“Of course, of course, I’ll show you to the kitchens. If your not going back to bed maybe you’d like to get dressed first. I’ll wait out here” 

Trish emerged some minutes later dressed in a green flaring skirt and a brown cardigan. Her hair was more orderly now, curly but under control.

Trish felt when McGonagall said Patricia that she thought she was talking to a student. It grated on Trish, but she couldn’t dwell on it for long. They walked down through the school, even more desolate by night, lit only by the light of McGonagall’s wand, and with the sound of portraits whispering and shuffling around them, until they got to the entrance hall. Here they took some stairs down to the left, into a dark corridor which stretched for a long while, and then abruptly did a u-turn. Then they stopped beside a picture of a big bowl of fruit. McGonagall turned to the picture and tickled the pear. It wriggled a little then a handle appeared. They walked into a room which appeared to be very similar to the great hall above. It had the eight house tables and the teachers table, and the walls were covered in copper pots and pans. A singular figure was busily working away at the back of the hall, polishing the surface. 

“Winky! Winky, I’ve got someone to introduce you to” said McGonagall to the room at large. 

A small creature crept forward seemingly from the shadows. A wrinkled, short figure, with huge oversized eyes and ears. She appeared to be wearing a small child’s pinafore. McGonagall motioned towards Patricia, and said 

“This is Patricia Glossop, she’s new and she’s just had a shocking incident with Peeves and would like a hot drink. What would you like?” Before Trish was able to introduce herself or object to the poor creature being ordered around at this hour when she was clearly busy, the creature replied in a high pitched voice. 

“Of course Mistress, it will be a pleasure. Winky will get you whatever you want?” The enthusiasm in the creature’s voice and look of expectancy silenced her. 

“I don’t think you’ll have it but I could really do with a cup of red bush tea.”  
McGonagall looked puzzled, but the creature started jumping up. 

“Yes Mistress, Winky can make that, Professor Burbage was very fond of it. Would Mistress like any milk or sugar?” 

“Milk, no sugar thanks” said Patricia and the creature wondered over to a cupboard and started rummaging. Trish wanted to ask what the thing was and how she’d never seen one before but couldn’t find the words to ask it politely. Instead she just stood their looking between McGonagall and opening and closing her mouth. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Patricia, I keep forgetting you aren’t used to our world. It's usually only the students who are.... Winky is a house-elf employed by the school. She’s actually the only one employed by the school, the rest are owned by the school” 

“Owned? They’re slaves?”

“Yes, but they want to be slaves, and I’m not just saying that. They consider the very idea of freedom as disgusting. Winky is somewhat outcast from the others because of it.” 

“Oh, I see” but Trish wasn’t convinced. She decided to investigate more later, but for now she’d feel a lot better with her cup of tea. She heard a whistling over by where Winky was working. Well, obviously she thought, they’d have a quicker way of boiling water. A moment later the elf came back carrying a hug mug of red bush tea and McGonagall suggested that they head to the staff room so that she could go and drink it in peace.  
As they left the kitchens, Trish noticed that the corridor continued along a little further and there were large pictures regarding her quizzically from the other end. 

“Are their any rooms down there?” she asked as they started walking away. 

“Yes, there’s Professor Sprout’s room and the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories” said McGonagall without looking back or at Trish. 

“It must be very tempting living down here?” commented Trish. 

“Why?” asked McGonagall suspiciously. 

“Well if you get the munchies in the night you just have to pop next door” said Trish attempting to lighten the mood. 

They had just climbed the stairs into the entrance hall, something nearing a smile, but not quite, spread over McGonagall’s face. 

“I suppose that explains…” McGonagall’s voice trailed off as she saw a small group coming in the large front door and her face became deadly serious. Trish looked from McGonagall’s face to the group. They were caped, and were all facing away from Trish and McGonagall as one of them closed the heavy wooden doors against the wet night. 

The first to turn around was an old man in a long purple cape, and a pair of half moon spectacles with the longest white beard Trish had ever seen. She was convinced for a second that she was face to face with Merlin but decided that she would not to risk asking. Before he could say anything McGonagall ran over to them. 

“Dumbledore!” Trish was glad she’d kept her mouth shut. 

“It’s so good to see you again! All three of you” And as Trish looked on, shocked, McGonagall proceeded to hug the man who looked like Merlin, then a woman with a long grey cloak on and then she went to hug the last man who was all in black. He had shoulder length black greasy hair, a beaky nose and stood rigid, hands clenched and face showing the revulsion that such unwanted physical contact would create. McGonagall stepped back.

“And despite everything, Severus, I’m even glad to see you” she said, just about regaining her self control and standing more upright. 

“You look tired... headmistress” Said the man who resembled Dracula but without fangs. 

“Well you look... just as I remember. Remarkably well even, all three of you” said McGonagall. 

“Everyone who came back, came back in perfect health” said Merlin almost cheerily then added. 

“Remus Lupin and his wife will be joining us at a later date, they are presently getting to know their son. This situation is tricky for everyone, it will take time to adjust again, but it is good to be back.” He looked around the hall and in his sweep his eyes fell on Trish, who was just starting walk slowly towards the door. 

“Will you introduce us, Minerva?” he said turning to look at her. Suddenly the eyes of the three new comers were on her. Trish was strongly aware that they were dressed rather differently to her, and that to them, she was an alien, an outsider, a stranger in a place they considered a home they were returning to. 

“Oh I’m sorry m’dear, this is Patricia Glossup. She’s Hogwarts first muggle teacher, teaching Muggle Studies of course.” McGonagall tried to say this with enthusiasm. The woman and Merlin looked politely interested at this, smiling at her, but the expression of Dracula hid nothing. His look of revulsion had only increased when he heard she was a muggle.

For Trish the only answer to outright dislike of her was to fight it with enthusiastic friendliness. She didn't know she'd be able to maintain it, but she stuck out her hand to the man who looked like Merlin she said. 

“Trish, nice to meet you” 

“Albus Dumbledore, a pleasure to meet you too” said Merlin, obviously impressed by her apparent confidence. 

“Charity Burbage, a pleasure as well, I look forward to joining you in Muggle Studies.” Said the woman with an open smile. 

Finally, thought Trish, someone who doesn’t think I’m an idiot.

She turned to shake dracula’s hand, holding out her's expectantly, daring him not to. 

"Severus Snape. And it isn't a pleasure. An annoyance to be endured..." started Dracula

"Severus!"

Trish lowered her hand. She thought that if his hand was anything like his hair, shaking it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. 

"If you insist" said Trish.


	5. Chapter Four - The One with the food fight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meal times and their consequences, because Hogwarts hall was made for a food fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT an OC/ Snape fic. I don't want to say any more for fear of ruining the plot, but Trish is not and will not be romantically attracted to Snape. Or vice versa. That is all.

The next morning saw Trish sorely disappointed. After last night's attack and run in with the illegitimate child of Count Dracula and a sarcastic slug, Trish had finally fallen asleep comforting herself with images of bacon, tomatoes, beans and eggy bread. She was therefore rather disappointed when, after last night's 'be our guest' show, she was offered toast, porridge or something that looked suspiciously like Lucky Charms. She was tempted by them until she saw Merlin pour a generous portion into a bowl. She got the sense of new employees everywhere. The one that says 'anyone can have that cereal, but actually it's Bert's'. Especially when everyone in the room was staring at 'Bert' as if the real Merlin had walked into the room. Suddenly 'Can you pass the Lucky Charms?' felt more like 'Can I have the next five years off at full pay?"Besides, they Looked like Lucky Charms in the way Hogwarts had looked like a school, rather than an alternate reality where paintings could talk and candles were floating in mid-air. Trish held her tongue and buttered a piece of toast quietly. 

Determined not to be disappointed at dinner, and inquisitive to see more of Winky, Trish headed straight to the Kitchens after Breakfast. She was just emerging from them when she bumped into Sprout who was emerging from her rooms near the Hufflepuff common room. 

“Professor Glossop, I hope there wasn’t anything wrong with your breakfast?” asked Sprout, indicating that there was indeed a problem, and probably not with Breakfast. Trish bit her tongue and suppressed the urge to say she was checking for poison. 

“Oh, no, it was lovely, I just wanted to see what we were having for dinner tonight” she lied, smiling at Sprout. 

“Oh. Professor Bunbury was just looking for you”. With that Sprout breezed off. Trish got the impression that Professor Sprout wasn't overjoyed at her being placed in Hufflepuff. She rolled her eyes and headed upstairs. Entering the classroom she had been shown on her first night she saw Professor Bunbury looking sceptically at a pile of objects neatly packaged in one corner.

Professor Bunbury was a middle-aged witch of a traditional persuasion, judging by her clothes. She wore a full length lilac dress with tight sleeves, a high collar and a small wide rimmed pointed hat. Trish wouldn’t have called her anti-muggle, because that was certainly not the case. However most of the material that Trish had been passed on her first evening at the school had been ridiculously outdated and seriously inaccurate as far as Trish could see. There was no mention of the internet in any of the books that Trish saw and the few mentions of mobile phones had pictures of women from the early 80s with padded shoulders, perms and huge brick-sized phones.

Trish had asked whether there was any later material than this, and was told this was the latest. In a slightly upset manner she had asked whether they wanted her to teach the curriculum or reality. McGonagall had tactfully suggested Trish might be able to help them update their curriculum, but she had seemed reticent and unethusiastic, and Professor Bunbury had not been impressed. They had, however, given her a fund, and almost dared her to do her worst. Trish was pretty sure they were giving her all this rope to hang herself, and never one to disappoint, she had jumped right in and ordered everything she could think of baring a guitar and sound system. And even that she was considering. Much of this now lay in tidy bundles on the floor. 

“I have asked Professor Smith to come and help you install all of the illecktrickal things you’ve purchased, though I doubt he’ll have any luck. He should be here in a…” said Professor Bunbury 

“Good morning Prof Bunbury, Miss Glossop, you’re looking a lot better, what toys have you got for me to play with?” babbled Professor Smith coming into the room, hands in pockets, an impish grin on his face. 

“Plenty Professor Smith, it may take you a while I’m afraid. I got an interactive whiteboard, a projector, a DAB digital radio with CD player, four school laptops, my laptop, and a wireless modem and that’s only in here.” Said Trish looking up from the delivery note, smiling guiltily at Professor Smith who merely grinned inanely and said 

“Lets get started” 

The White board was soon in place and linked to Trish’s laptop. The Projector was working and floating against the wall, a foot from the ceiling where Bunbury had somehow permanently settled it. Trish was dreading the day she had to reboot the thing, but Professor Smith didn’t seem too worried. The four student laptops were up and running round a couple of desks pushed together and the modem was working despite having no phone line or a power source. Her mobile was working and Professor Smith was working on the radio and CD player.

Trish meanwhile had started putting up some of the posters she had ordered to adorn her classroom. A Ghostbuster’s poster had already been blu-taked to the front of the door, and she was just standing on top of a desk trying to place a poster of Loki from Thor where she could see it if she was teaching. She was just on tiptoe, the desk wobbling a little precariously when a loud static screech shocked her into dropping to her knees and hugging her ears. As quickly as it had started, it stopped, and Trish turned round to see Professor Smith hugging the radio, his gadget in his right hand and his eyes wide. He looked up at Trish and said apologetically, 

“Well at least we know the radio works. Just needs a little tuning” 

“It’s DAB, does it need tuning?” asked Trish as Professor Smith continued to fiddle with wires and poke around. 

“What was that noise, miss?” asked a couple of students looking round the door. 

“It was just Professor Smith destroying my new radio, now how would you two like to help me?” asked Trish brightly before they could leave. The two students looked less than impressed. 

“Look I know I’m not exactly the most popular teacher, but surely there must be some way to encourage you to help. I may not be in Slytherin but I’m not above a little honest bribery in these sorts of cases. What do you want?” 

“House points?” said one optimistically. 

“Sounds like appropriate payment to me, now what are your names” 

“Sally” 

“Becky” 

“Ok Sally and Becky, would you like to choose some posters and start putting them up, but leave those four big squares.” 

The girls started sifting through the posters, mumbling that they weren’t moving but said nothing to Trish. Then the girl called Sally turned to Trish and said, 

“Professor, who’s this” holding up a larger picture of Captain Jack, holding a sword, with the sun setting brightly behind him. 

“You haven’t seen Pirates of the Caribbean?” asked Trish looking shocked. The blank looks on the faces of the girls confirmed her fears 

“You’re in for a treat, this” she said indicating the poster “is Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?” The two students looked at the poster and then at Miss Glossop. 

“Are you feeling alright Miss?” asked Becky, eyebrow raised. 

“I’m fine, but the first thing I’m going to do when I next see the headmistress is ask her if we can have a movie night.” 

The evening meal that day was an interesting experience. Trish lost her usual seat to Dracula and was too scared to ask to swap. Merlin went to stand up and talk, only realising half way that he was no longer headmaster, and sat down, grinning and amused as McGonagall got up, glaring at him. After Merlin, Dracula and Professor Burbage had been reintroduced, the meal was served and Dracula looked down at the food which had appeared before him with a look of utter contempt. 

“What is this?” he asked no-one in particular, although his voice was loud enough for the staff table, if not the nearer ends of the house tables to hear. 

“I’m sorry Mr Snape, that’s my chicken tikka masala. If we can just swap…” said Trish trying to apologise. 

“It’s Professor Snape. Here, have you muggle rubbish” with a gesture from a wand he had produced from seemingly no-where her threw the chicken dish through the air, face down onto Trish’s lap, and more importantly onto her skirt. For a moment Trish just stared down at her lap then turned on Dracula. 

"This skirt was brand new. From Monsoon. Do you know how expensive they are?” she shouted at him. 

“I think it’s an improvement” said Dracula pulling her bowl of soup in front of him. Trish saw red, grabbed the bowl, stood up and poured it over his head. For a second he was absolutely still, the hall was silent, then, rising in as graceful a movement as one can do with a bowl of mixed vegetable soup dripping over their hair, Dracula yelled 

“How dare you!” 

“I don’t know", snapped Trish, looking at his hair "I think it’s an improvement!” 

This was when the hall erupted. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables started aiming food at each other. Unfortunately, with two houses in the way, they managed to hit more Gryffindors and Ravenclaws in the attempt then each other. A few ran from the hall, but most decided that this was a great opportunity to start a school wide food fight and within seconds you couldn't tell if anyone was fighting anyone in particular, with the exception of the few high arching buttered bread rolls flying high over the middle tables. The Headmistress stood up and received a large glob of school mash potato to her face and dress. (Quite a feat considering mash was never on the menu, but where there's a food fight, there's school mash) Everyone stood still, even Trish and Dracula who were arguing over whose fault the food fight was. McGonagall slowly wiped the mash potato off and then looked round the hall. 

“I have never seen such appalling behaviour from this school in all my years. Quidditch is banned for the entire first term, everyone will go to bed an hour early, meals, for as long as I deem necessary, will be eaten in complete silence and homework will be doubled.” 

Evil looks were thrown across the room from the students to each other but most were aimed at Trish and Dracula. Dracula seemed immune to any that missed Trish. 

“Now go to you dormitories at once, clean up and straight to bed, anyone still out of bed in an hour will lose twenty points from their house!” The children filed slowly out of the hall. Trish could see a grin on some faces who thought it worth the punishment, but there were anger on many as well. As the last child left the hall, the Headmistress, and the rest of the staff turned on Trish and Dracula. 

“What were you two thinking? What in Merlin’s name is going on?” Trish felt herself going red. 

“I asked the elves to get me something different to eat. He sat where I thought I’d be sitting and got my meal instead. I politely asked to swap but he threw it at me,” 

“So you threw yours back at him?” asked McGonagall, eyebrows hitting the vaulted ceiling and arms folded sternly. 

“I’m sorry headmistress,” Trish hung her head, feeling more humiliated than she had even as a pupil herself. 

“It was childish, a terrible example in front of the whole school, and on your second day! You will apologise for it, tomorrow, in front of the whole school. Ten points from Hufflepuff, now go and clear yourself up.” with that Trish was dismissed and started making her way along the length of the hall. 

“You should have fired her on the spot, it would everyone a lot of trouble” came Dracula’s slimy voice. Trish turned around, fuming. 

“I know that’s what I should do with you! Throwing food at the first muggle teacher ever to teach in a wizarding school! What do you want, Severus? To hand Hogwarts to the ministry on a plate? I've fought for seventeen years to keep this school independent of their control and within hours of your arrival that is in jeopardy. You will apologise. And you will apologise first. And you will mean it. And you will make sure that I have no further reason to fire you! Fifty points from Slytherin!” screamed McGonagall.


	6. Chapter Five - The One with Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes started again for the year. And three in particular don't go as planned.

Sunday was the day of the infamous apologies. It was clear to all and sundry that neither Snape or herself were happy about the apology. Trish prided herself that at least the part where she apologised to the school for disgracing them had been heartfelt. But Snape's was said through gritted teeth on both fronts and dirty looks were sent her way most of the day. They were returned but both held their tongues, lessons learnt. Thankfully McGonagall didn't insisted on them shaking hands, for which Trish was eternally gratefully. 

 

Despite the apology, Trish found that she wasn't feeling as guilty about the incident as she thought she should. Obviously Dracula deserved what he got, and she had come to realise a number of the teachers agreed with her secretly. She was pretty sure Professor Longbottom held a secret wish to have done it himself and she might have heard Professor Sprout mention something like 'almost worth it if it hadn't been such a good soup'. She was even getting the occasional smile from her, before she realised that she was meant to dislike Trish. 

 

Monday morning quickly arrived and with it Trish’s first class, fourth year Gryffindor. She entered the class to find them in chairs pulled up around the desks, chatting.

“Goodmorning class, welcome to your first Muggle Studies class of the year. Please can you all sit yourselves at a desk now and pay attention.” For a moment the class hushed and weighed her up in their minds. She was found wanting in seconds and the class returned to their discussions, a group at the back brought out a pack of cards and started dealing. 

“Class we are starting now. Turn around” no change occurred, and Miss Glossop felt as if she may as well have been addressing her cat, but her cat would have shown more of a reaction. 

“Class, please don’t make me punish you on your first day”. A murmur of laughter filled the class and died away in a second. Threats from a muggle obviously didn’t carry much weight. 

“Class, I will only ask you once more, sit down and pay attention, please” said Miss Glossop in her most authoritative voice. Still no change occurred in the class’s behaviour. Flustered Miss Glossop looked round and saw two familiar faces. The two girls at the front, Becky and Sally, had helped her decorate the room. They were sitting silently, quills out ready to write. Suddenly Miss Glossop had an idea. 

“Becky, can you please write this down.  
“Dear Professor McGonagall. 

I am sorry to report that due to completely unacceptable behaviour, including failure to follow direct instructions and blatant rudeness, all Fourth Year Gryffindors, bar Becky and Sally, are in detention every day for two weeks, including both Saturdays, and …”

Becky, is there any sports that any of this class participate in?” She looked up to see the class glaring daggers at her and the back of Becky's head. The room was silent now and Becky was going a shocking shade of red. Quietly she said

“Quidditch” all the same. 

“Traitor!” cried a voice from the back. 

“If you think I wouldn’t have asked Professor McGonagall myself when I saw her, you’re very much mistaken, continue writing Becky  
…and they will be banned from all Quidditch matches and practices for the remainder of this year. As Head Mistress, I felt you should be aware of the situation so that this behaviour is not seen to be allowed and so encouraged in the younger, more impressionable years. 

Signed  
Miss Glossop.” 

“You can’t do that, your can't!” shouted another voice from the back. 

“If you mean I don’t have the magical capability to physically make you come to detentions, then no, I myself do not have that ability, but my fellow teachers do. I think you’ll find they’ll support me in the case of discipline. I hear Professor McGonagall is as straight as they come. But if you mean I don’t have the jurisdiction, the authority, to punish students then you are seriously misinformed. I am a fully qualified teacher with the prerogative to punish students as I deem necessary.” 

“Let’s wipe her memory” said a boy, slamming his cards down and singeing his hand slightly, as something exploded underneath it. A number of voices chorused.

“We could get arrested!”

“You can’t do that spell, even Professor Flitwick can’t!” 

“Go on, try it. Let’s see if those anti-spell things Professor McGonagall put on me work hey?” said Trish in her most ‘Bring it on’ voice, making a mental note to ask Professor McGonagall if such a think existed next time she saw her. 

“She’s calling your bluff” 

“You think your teachers are idiots don’t you.” She said, kicking herself that they were. 

“I suggest, Becky, you add threatening behaviour to that list of offences in the letter, as well as attempted illegal use of magic” Miss Glossop was impressed with the reaction to this, especially considering she had taken the illegal part from their own discussions, but kept a serious face as they finally re-arranged the desks and sat down. 

“Now that I have your attention. Just because I am a ‘muggle’ and this is ‘muggle’ studies, does not mean that you can ignore me and sit around doing your own thing. I want you sitting boy, girl, boy, girl, you two, go and hand out those exercise books and biro’s, yes those, and copy what I’m going to write on the board, and if you do exactly what I say you might not have detentions on Saturdays.” The class silently began to write and Trish internally breathed a sigh of relief. 

In another part of the school, a quiet and patient first year class of Slytherins were still awaiting the arrival of their teacher. They had just quietly agreed to leave and head to the common room when Professor Smith walked calmly through the door as if nothing was the matter, followed shortly by Professor Noble who was carrying a large box full of things, on top of which was an old-fashioned reel of film. 

“Just dump that at the back, Donna, thanks. Now, Good morning class, are we sitting comfortably? I’m glad you all found the room al-right,” Professor Smith took a piece of chalk from his jacket pocket and starting writing on the board. 

“Defence against the Dark Arts, write that, somewhere. Lets think about that shall we, what exactly are Dark Arts?” A polite, neat looking girl with straight white blonde hair, neatly hair-pinned back at the sides, raised her pale hand demurely. 

“Yes, and your name is?” asked Professor Smith smiling. 

“Abelinda, sir” she said, her face remaining very serious 

“Yes, and Dark Arts are?” he asked. 

“Bad Spells and Potions used by Dark wizards against others for their harm, sir” she said. 

“Like your Dad!” jeered a boy with black hair at the back. 

“So was yours! It’s not exactly something to be proud of!” Hissed the girl venomously in reply. The rest of the class sounded unimpressed.

“Oi! Lets settle down shall we, That’s a good try, good try, good name as well, for a Slytherin, Beautiful Snake. I’m guessing your parents were in Slytherin, yep, and your Grandparents, and Great Grandparents, and Great Great … anyway, is Dark Arts just bad wizards?” 

“Attacks from magical creatures, sir?” asked a boy from the back. 

“Yes, and your name is?” 

“Milo, Professor” 

“Yes, Milo, and that’s what we are starting with, so, lets hear some names of dangerous magical creatures please” 

“Well there’s Boggarts,” said Milo 

“And Werewolves” said Abelinda 

“Endopsychic Chimeramorphs” corrected Professor Smith, writing it up neatly, 

“and Lupine Wavelength Haemovariforms” and he started drawing on the board. 

“What?” asked Milo exasperatedly. 

“They are the technical terms for Boggarts and Werewolves, the first a creature that attacks it’s prey via negative thought processes in the prey’s mind, which it uses to incapacitate it. The second, a being which invades the body, gradually building up genetic material over generations, or transferring in one bite, until there is enough material to enslave the host. Famous werewolves include Sarah Jessica Parker, and of course, Russell Brand.” He finished drawing with a flourish. The class had gone strangely silent, but the teacher and his assistant seemed unaware of this. 

“That’s the worst Werewolf ever!” said Donna loudly from the back. 

“Hey, that’s an accurate representation of the one that bit Queen Victoria” said Professor Smith Indignantly. The class watched their interactions with bemusement. 

“Donna, put on the projector please” Professor Smith aimed his stick thing at the ceiling and it buzzed. The lights went out, as a voice was heard to say 

“Professor Lupin is a Werewolf, professor.” 

“Yeah, well he’s regularly fed…some…suppressant which immobilises the parasite, probably some mistletoe derivative, anyway, shall we take a look at some monsters, and discuss how to combat them?” Despite no response, Professor Smith nodded and the projector flickered into life. An image of a wolf on its hind legs with barred teeth appeared, apparently walking towards the camera, hands to it’s sides, eyes narrowed, teeth barred. 

“So, what would we do if we met a Werewolf?” asked Professor Smith. Hands were tentatively raised. 

“Stupefy?” 

“Nope” Professor Smith leant back against the desk. 

“Expecto Petronum?” 

“Nope” he said shaking his head and sticking his bottom lip out a bit.

“Avada Kadavra?” asked a quiet girl at the back. 

“Now you know that’s unforgivable!” said Professor Smith seriously. 

“That’s terrible!” said Donna from the back. 

“So, what’s the answer?” asked Abelinda, looking between the two of them. 

“Run” said Professor Smith seriously, 

“Next picture” 

“Because we’re not qualified?” asked Abelinda. 

“If you want” said Professor Smith strangely. 

An image of a hooded and ghostly figure looking over a log appeared, then quickly disappeared just as four short people came into view under the log. 

“Every hand in the room shot up” 

“Dementers!” was the unanimous decision, as Donna stifled a laugh and hid the Lord of the Rings Dvd case. 

“And what do we do?” asked Professor Smith. 

“Run?” sarcastically asked the boy who had taunted Abelinda. 

“Yep, next picture.” 

This was a simple black and white photo of a girl surrounded by obviously fake faeries. A giggle rippled over the class. 

“Oh come on Professor, faeries aren't dangerous. My sister said that last year Professor Flitwick used them as decorations at Christmas!” said a girl from the front. 

“My colleague, Professor Harkness, from Torchwood institute, informs me that certain faeries are by no means harmless. Deadly with rose petals, in fact.” The children started laughing but Professor Smith’s serious face made them uneasy and the laughter evaporated quickly. The next picture to appear on the screen was a room, with a lampshade in one corner and a table in the centre. 

“What’s wrong with this picture?” asked Professor Smith, putting his glasses on then forcing his hands into his pockets. He leaned against the desk and stared over his glasses at them. There was a stunned silence as the children looked at the picture then at each other. 

“The Angle?” mocked one boy.

“The Lighting?” mocked another. 

"The composition?" 

“Professor, I don’t know if this is right, but that table has two shadows, and there’s only one light” said Abelinda apprehensively. 

“Absolutely correct, ten house points.” Said Professor Smith 

“Bad shadows, most likely Vashta Nerada” he said writing it up neatly next to the other two names and adding faeries and ringwraiths, before rubbing it out and writing dementor. 

“Just run, ok, always, just run. Not through the shadow though, obviously. Next image” 

“But Sir, what is a Vashta Nerada?” Asked Abelinda. 

“Piranhas in the air, will literally rip the flesh off of you in milliseconds, stay out of the shadows. Especially forests and libraries, just run” and with that he moved on. A stone statue of an angel weeping over a grave appeared. 

This time the laugh couldn’t be distinguished from a slight groan. No one spoke. Professor Smith looked around expectantly. 

“No? Lonely assassins, send you back in time, permanently, often appear as stone angels covering their eyes. Run. Actually, NO! No, no, no, don’t run, the only exception, keep looking at them, straight at them. Don’t move, don’t look around, don’t even blink.”  
Everyone had gone very pale and very quiet. Regardless of their opinion of their teacher, they had to admit there was a certain eeriness about the statue, and they all stared at it for some time until Milo broke the silence, saying. 

“Why?” 

“Well…” said Professor Smith getting up and starting to draw on the free space that was on the board. 

“Here we go?” came a loud whisper from Donna at the back. 

“The ‘assassins’ are Quantum locked which means whilst you look at them they cannot leave the position they are in. However, once you stop looking at them they are Quantum wave forms and can move at infinite speeds. I hope you’ve got these terms all down, I’ll be testing you next week.” 

“So what’s that?” asked Abelinda pointing to Professor Smith’s drawing. 

“That’s an adipose, cute eh, dya like it?” he asked smiling inanely. 

“Anyway, make a list of monsters for next week.” As the class started writing, Milo put his hand up and asked. 

“Professor, what’s the scariest creature you’ve ever met?” 

“That’s a tough question” he said noting Donna’s warning glare, which said mention anything too alien and we’re busted. 

“I worked with teachers who were really child eating, evil bat things” he said cheerily, Donna brought her hand to her face in despair. 

“Have you met Professor Snape, Professor?” asked Milo, eyebrow raised.  
“Yeah, but these were really, evil… I mean they could fl… they killed…they slept in the… they made the children…they weren’t huma…you know you’ve got a very good point, maybe we should look into that. So, what have you learned from this lesson so far?” 

“Run?” asked Milo 

“Exactly, well done. Top marks.”

As the class continued silently writing, Donna walked up to the front, turned to Professor Smith and whispered.

"You realise they're all going to fail this class"

"I have a choice, Donna. I can teach them to pass the test, or I can teach them how to stay alive. I know which I'm going teach". 

Later, as both classes filed out, giving warning looks to the classes heading in, the second year Gryffindors were preparing for their first potions lesson of the year. They were sitting quietly in the dungeon as Dracula-Snape made his signature swooping entrance in an attempt to intimidate all and sundry. He read the register ticking as he read, pausing when he got to the name, 

“Potter!” He spat it out, as if the name were a parsnip he’d thought was a potato. But his eyes widened further, as he noted the child also possessed Lily’s eyes, and Harry’s, and (more importantly) James’ looks. He finished the register, limiting himself to only giving Albus one long maleficent look, who looked more offended than Harry ever had. He moved swiftly on to his customary introduction to potions. 

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic…” Snape ground to a halt as he noticed the hand of a young girl was in the air. He regarded her, noting the ginger, wild hair and freckles, and look of determination. She looked familiar, but he was unable to place why. 

“What!” he snapped realising he’d stopped speaking. 

“When you say that this subject requires little ‘foolish wand-waving’, what exactly does it involve?” she said, unfazed by his severe gaze. 

“You will be carefully follow the instructions I give you, preparing ingredients and brewing them in your cauldrons. You…” again he was interrupted. 

“So, it’s cooking?” this time the interruption was from a young light brown haired boy. 

“So, if I finish all the work you set us, can I use the cauldron to make a soup?” asked the girl with the ginger hair, a hint of an annoying smile ghosting behind what was meant to be a serious face. No one laughed, no one else seemed to have a death wish. Snape seethed, reddening with anger at the presumption of the students and went to the register to confirm his suspicions. 

“You’re a Weasley aren’t you!” he hissed at the girl, 

“Another Weasley brat, which Weasley brat’s brat are you? You look familiar but then all of you do!” The girl looked fuming, her face red as her hair, but something in the way she also looked upset reminded Snape of someone else. Annoyed that he could not remember, Snape turned his attention back on Albus, who was fiddling with his quill. 

“Potter!” he loomed over the desk. 

“Do you know the difference between Wolfsbane and Wormwood?”  
The boy didn’t look up, but muttered something under his breath, which could have been “I hate you”, but then just as easily “Who cares?” or “Push off you big-nosed, rubber-faced…” 

“What did you say Potter!” said Snape through clenched teeth. 

“Nothing, sir” said Albus, angry eyes looking up at Snape. 

“Detention!” said Snape, 

“That’s not fair,” said the red haired girl, 

“Excuse me!” hissed Snape, turning to face the Ginger girl. 

“There is no difference between Wormwood and Wolfsbane, they’re two names for the same thing. That’s the right answer.” Snape stared at her menacingly. Then the proverbial knut dropped, the impatient hand, the determined face, and now... 

“Granger?” The girl’s expression became slightly worried. 

“Your parents are Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, presumably Hermione Weasley now. And you the most annoying parts of both of them, the know-it-all and the jack-the-lad. Always breaking the rules and finding ‘inventive’ ways to escape their just rewards. Getting into scrapes and then saving each other from them, how sickening, childhood sweet-hearts.” his nose wrinkles as he said this, as if someone had put their smelly shoe under his nose, and he slowly turned away. The girl seemed about to snap back, but Albus jumped in first. 

“You’re pathetic. My Dad said you were the bravest person he ever knew. What did you do, change his memory? I hate you!” 

With that young Albus stalked from the room. The class watched him leave and then turned to look at Snape with expectant faces. He quickly set them some work and sat simmering at the front, pretending to write something with his quill. Albus was walked in by Professor McGonagall a couple of minutes later. He looked calmer although he gave Snape a very strange, almost pitying look when he came in. McGonagall walked to the front of the class as Albus took his seat. 

“You’re lucky I caught him, Severus” The whole class could hear her whisper and like a class full of cats, suddenly everyone’s ears had pricked up and were intent on hearing their conversation. 

“His father is head Auror now and understandably very well connected at the ministry. If he finds out you’re treating his children like you treated him, regardless of what you did, he will get you fired. I strongly suggest, Severus, that you curb your tongue and start acting like an adult. I will speak to you after lessons are finished” Both teachers suddenly became aware of the silence and turned to see a class full of attentive faces, no quills were moving. Considering her duty fulfilled, McGonagall left the room and Snape was left wondering how his life could get any worse.


	7. Chapter Six - The One with Secrets, Snakes and Suspiciously familiar visitors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trish takes a night time visit to places Muggle Teachers SHOULD have nightmares about, and runs into more trouble than she bargained for.

Trish's first fortnight seemed like a test of both her patience and her sanity. A couple of days in and she was pretty good at ignoring most of the snide comments directed at her (mainly by Snape), or attempts to scare her (mainly by the students, with the assistance of the school ghosts). Inanimate objects, although not aimed in her direction, would fall off of tables, move a couple of inches with a loud scrape, turn around or rustle, just when Trish was least expecting it. But the more it happened the more immune to it she became and so her classes had calmed down. The movie night had gained her 'street cred' or at least 'school cred' as it was an authorised late(ish) night on a Friday on the understanding that this counted as important Muggle Studies revision. Also Trish allowing students access to the DVDs and Laptops outside of classes had helped improve her standing amongst many, mostly muggle borns. 

However, one afternoon Trish found herself a victim of her own success. Walking along a corridor, behind Professor McGonagall, Trish had seen Scorpius Malfoy's grin approaching the full length of the corridor. This was by no means uncommon. Scorpius' trademark smirk was almost constantly plastered on his face when he saw Trish. It cried out wanting to get her into trouble and enjoy it at the same time. He was with his two friends, more like body guards at his side, who he nodded at as they approached. One smiled evily, the other looked confused, but kept quiet. Just as they were passing Professor McGonagall, Trish heard the boys singing something which sounded worrying close to 'Everybody wants to be a cat'. Clearly McGonagall had heard it as well, and recognised it, because she turned on Scorpius faster than a piranha on an unsatisfactory minion and shouted 

"Scorpius Malfoy, you come here this instant!" 

He turned, signature smirk in place, waved his hand across his face in a rude and dismissive manner and said

"These are not the drones you are looking for"

Trish felt her skin get cold and clammy as Scorpius turned to walk away again. But just as he started, Mcgonagall shouted back something which sounded a lot like 

"Scorpius Malfoy, if you don't get back here this instant I'll turn you and your friends into toilet brushes and use you to clean the staff toilets! Don't you think I wouldn't!" Scorpius Malfoy stopped suddenly and rather rigidly turned round. McGonagall's face could have cowed armies. It certainly cowed Trish, and by the nervousness in Scorpius' steps as he walked forward, it was finally having the same effect on him. He stood in front of her, looking her in the eye for a moment before dropping his head in fear, at which point Professor McGonagall started listing off a large number of punishements for him and his friends to complete. After a few moments the man who looked like Merlin appeared at the other end of the corridor and walked down to see what was happening. As usual he was smiling benignly over his half moon spectacles. 

"Now Minerva, that sounds a little harsh to me" he said calmly. 

"Mr. Malfoy I will see you later for your detention" snapped McGonagall. Scorpius looked expectantly at Dumbledore but he took the hint and left when McGonagall added. 

“You may leave now, Mr. Malfoy!”. Merlin was looking innocent when McGonagall suddenly turned on him. She was a rather vibrant colour of crimson, and her head was shaking just slightly. 

"I do not appreciate being undermined in front of the students, Albus" she said, emphasising his name.  
"Remember who is the headteacher now!" With that she stormed off with a dramatic swish of her dress. Trish was left feeling incredibly guilty for letting the students watch Disney or Star Wars and spent the rest of the evening looking through the DVDs for possible issues that could arise. 

Despite the calming in the scare attempts, and a kind of half muttered apology from Peeves (along the lines of making his trick more tasteful and less murderous next time, she got the feeling this was beaten out of him as it was), Trish still found sleeping at Hogwarts difficult. Even trying to think of other things, as night fell, she found herself wide eyed and bushy tailed. After a night or two of lying in bed doing nothing, she decided to make the most of the extra time and explore the castle by night, when there was no-one else around to interfere. Of course in any other castle this would probably have been OK. She had a torch and common sense enough not to jump at every noise or try and use the stairs that moved. But, far greater dangers await late night wanderers at Hogwarts. 

By some miracle she had managed almost a week and a halfs worth of trips with no incident and had checked out a couple of the towers, a couple of the dungeons and a green house. The night after the Scorpius Star Wars incident she made her way to the Kitchen to converse with Winky. This was becoming a habit, as Winky was both very interested about what went on in the school and very good at making hot chocolate. Apparently Trish was providing, through Winky, some kind of soap opera about the school for the other House Elves, and they were all eager for the next instalment. Trish related the incident with Scorpius and Winky seemed suitably scandalised. But after she had updated Winky she managed, for the first time to encourage Winky to talk about herself. 

 

Tonight Winky told Trish about her past, with the Crouch's and how, although she felt more accepted now, she had felt a disgrace. She had been reminded of it with the arrival of another house elf, Dobby, who had been killed around the same time as Dracula. His arrival was causing her some stress and she had admitted to Trish that she found it hard to confide her feelings to the others. House elves apparently were notorious gossips. After their talk, Trish was just heading up to bed when nature called. She was passing by a girls toilets at the time and took the opportunity. She was just washing her hands when she was startled by a young girls voice behind her. 

"These are girls toilets, not staff toilets. You shouldn't be using them." 

Trish turned around to be face the ghost of a girl in a Hogwarts uniform, with circular black-rimmed glasses and pony tails on each side of her head. 

"Hi, I'm Miss Glossop, I'm the new muggle studies teacher here" she said, trying to sound as confident as possible, despite her increasing heart-rate. 

"I know, you hate ghosts, Binns told me, I don't like you" she said all this, arms crossed, very ‘matter of fact’ly. 

"I, I tried apologising to Binns, he...he wouldn't listen. I don't hate g...ghosts." Trish reached round for the basin for support. 

"Why are you trembling. You're scared aren't you! You're going to faint again aren't you!" The ghost started floating slowly towards her 

"No! No, I am not." the colour returned to Trish's cheeks, and she stood up straighter. 

"I've just had a rather unsettling run in with your poltergeist" 

"I heard he threw a cushion at you" said the ghost in a derogatory fashion. 

"Then you heard wrong, he tried to suffocate me with my own pillow." 

"You’re lying" This comment was made with the same matter-of-fact manner as all previous comments which was beginning to grate on Trish's temper. 

"I had to wrench it off, using both hands and feet, I hardly think he can claim he was 'throwing' it" The ghost looked slightly shocked by Trish's anger and her determined expression. She was silent. Recovering her matter-of-fact look the ghost pointed past Trish. 

"You see that tap there, it leads down to a secret chamber" she said, her tone not changing. 

"Pull the other one" said Trish without thinking. 

"Excuse me?" The ghost turned her head on one side, and looked at Trish strangely. 

"It means pull the other leg. A secret chamber, what is it, a storage area?" 

"No, it was a series of underground tunnels built by the most evil wizard in existence to house the basilisk which killed me. It's dead now. But if you speak parseltongue you can still open the entrance. They tried to seal it, but they couldn't. There's some kind of " Trish was staring at the tap, then suddenly turned round. 

"What's Parcel-tongue?" Trish asked. 

"It's what snakes speak" replied the ghost. Trish quizzically raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh come off it! You're trying to tell me that snakes can speak! What do they say 'Open Ssssssesssssame'?" 

There was a grating noise and the ghost was looking at Trish strangely. She slowly turned round to see a hole where the sinks had been. Trish turned back to the young ghost. 

After a few seconds a smile appeared slowly across her face. 

"Well, it seems the 'muggle' isn't as useless as she looks. Lets go explore" She was heading towards the hole when she turned round. 

"Are you coming?" she asked the ghost who was hovering warily near the wall. 

"Oh no, I'm not going down there! That's where IT came from" 

"What?" 

"The monster that killed me" 

"I thought you said it was dead" 

"It is but..." 

"Then there's nothing to fear, come on... or are you a scaredy cat?" Without waiting for the ghost to answer she jumped down the hole. Trish often wondered why she didn't think twice about jumping down the hole. However, the only reason she could think of was Why not? She landed in a tangle of weeds which tightened around her as she struggled. Fortunately for Trish she had been given a Chinese finger trap as a Christmas present as a child and had quickly learned that struggling didn't help these sorts of situations. So she went very still as she considered what to do. After a couple of seconds the tangle of weeds released her and she landed with a bump. 

"Professor! Professor! are you OK?" 

"Yes!" said Trish getting up and rubbing her bum which was offended by the rough treatment. 

"I never asked your name" she said as she went to call the ghost, 'ghost' and realised that that was probably not very polite. 

"Myrtle" said the ghost floating below the weeds. 

"Nice to meet you Myrtle, you coming?" Without waiting for an answer Trish walked on. In the next room she entered where many keys flying through the air. She looked around her and her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. She stood for a moment considering the best way to tackle the problem. 

“I don’t suppose you could grab that key, Myrtle” asked Trish hopefully.

“I’m not a poltergeist” said Myrtle, rubbing her arm. 

“Oh well,” said Trish and stood thinking for a moment. Then she looked up. 

"Myrtle, the door is open. Why is the door open? Isn't it supposed to be some kind of test?"

"Yes... I don't know"

Trish walked cautiously over. A large piece of rock or possibly broken masonry was wedging the door open just enough that she could climb through.

 

The next room she entered revealed a larger than life chess set. Trish thought her luck was unbelievable. 

"Two time Southward Road School Chess Champion, come on!" Then she remembered how many years ago that was and mentally kicked herself for never having played since. 

"Er Myrtle, hows your chess?"

"You could just walk through again, this door is wedged open too!" said Myrtle obviously. 

"Oh. Oh yeah" said Trish, embarrassed, and walked past. After walking past a lot of really big snakes, Trish stood in the middle of an empty chamber looking at the huge statue of an old man's head. Light seemed to be coming from somewhere in the ceiling. Her arms were crossed and she was looking confused.  
"Why?" she asked after a few moments silence.

"What?" asked Myrtle, hovering nervously above her, looking every few seconds at the skeleton of a huge snake-like creature which was the only object which adorned the room.

"Exactly!" said Trish obviously. The ghost stared at her with a confused expression, her head on one side.

"I don't understand" she replied after a few seconds.

"What is the point of this chamber?" asked Trish glancing up at Myrtle.

"It held the snake" said Myrtle, as if it was obvious and perfectly sensible.

"Why?" asked Trish. 

"To wreak havoc on Hogwarts, to destroy all mudbloods!" 

"Seems like a very hit and miss way to do it, and anyway, what if no-one ever opened it. Whoever made this must have been thinking very long-term. What are the secrets it hides anyway?" questioned Trish, all the while, holding her nose.

"The snake!" said Myrtle, sensing that the conversation was going round in circles.

"Oh come on! You go to all the effort of building a secret chamber without anyone's knowledge, just to stick a dirty great snake in it in the hope that some day in the future some student will accidentally hiss next to a tap and unleash it. And come to that you're hoping that it has a taste for 'muggle-borns'. Sounds like a pretty rubbish plan to me. And its not as if the Basythingy was a particularly huge secret anyway as far as I can tell."

"The taps came later, but what are you saying?" said Myrtle, fearing that she may be beginning to follow the muggle's drift. 

"I'm saying this is meant to be a 'Chamber of Secrets', and I don't think, from what people have said, that THAT was much of a secret" she said motioning at the skeleton.

"I think the secret is still a secret" she said in conclusion, feeling like Sherlock Holmes solving a case, or maybe a very young Miss Marple.

\--

Trish emerged from the girls toilets and into the hall saying.

"Night Myrtle!" and feeling very grumpy and not so much Miss Marple, more Inspector Clouseau. Whatever secret she thought the Chamber was hiding, was still hidden and Trish was taking it as a personal lack of trust in herself that it wouldn't reveal it to her. Despite what logic said about years of people searching it and knowing magic to get in etc. 

As she was passing the main entrance she heard footsteps ahead of her. Instinct told her that being found wandering around at late at night/ very early in the morning wouldn't reflect well, so she ducked into a cupboard and waited. Looking at the hands on her luminous kids watch she realised it was 2.30. Maybe it didn't look good on whoever else was walking around either and now Trish was just being plain nosey, leaving the door open a crack so that she could listen in to whoever was outside. 

As the footsteps got nearer she found she could discern two voices. McGonagall and Dumbledore were heading towards the hall. McGonagall was saying

"I don't understand why the ministry thinks this is a good idea. I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm with Severus, it'll only cause more problems. It's not like we don't have enough already" She heard McGonagall and Dumbledore emerge into the hall, their voices echoing differently. She could also see a little of the light from a wand.

"Glad to see you listen to me, sometimes, Minerva" said Snape, his voice seeming to appear from nowhere on the other side of the room from the other two. Trish nearly yelped in surprise, but McGonagall and Dumbledore seemed unimpressed by the dramatics. Trish made a mental note to add it to her evidence that Snape was actually a Count who owned a castle in Romania. All she seemed to be missing so far were the boxes of earth, teeth and crazy bitey women. But she had only known him two weeks and she hadn't had a good hunt in the dungeons. Merlin/Dumbledore sighed and continued. 

"Unfortunately we have been left with no choice in the matter. The new Minister of Magic has personally and publicly accepted their request to visit" 

"Yes, woe to anyone who tries to get between Sebastian Montague and publicity" said McGonagall and Trish could tell she wasn't smiling. But she decided to peak just to check, and she wasn't. It was McGonagll who held the wand a little above their heads, all three fully dressed. 

"Why are they coming at this hour?" asked Snape, glancing at McGonagall, looking down his nose. Although Snape's face looked disgusted, Trish for a moment thought that he wasn't actually trying to look that way. Maybe his face was just like that, from years of bad treatment or something, so much so that it was stuck like that. Then she remembered his triumphant look after the incident in the hall, and abandoned that hypothesis. No-one who poured Indian on a brand new monsoon skirt deserved sympathy.

"It's at the ministry's request, a safety precaution. In case some over-zealous half-bloods try to murder Salazar Slytherin. Which, all things considered, isn't too unbelievable" said McGonagall. 

"If they're coming together, Godric Gryffindor will probably do it for them" muttered Snape dryly as Dumbledore glanced at a wrist-watch and McGonagall's face suggested that Snape might again be right. After a couple of seconds Snape spoke again.

"Why didn't they come by Floo?"

"They've closed down the Floo to prevent reporters and photographers 'hacking in' to get photos of tomorrow. We're only allowing one photographer from the Prophet for their entire visit." replied McGonagall without looking at him. This seemed all the explanation that was required and they continued standing in silence. All the while Trish was making careful mental notes. The people arriving sounded like the house names, therefore, considering the stories about how people had come back from the dead, it didn't take a great leap of the imagination to guess that these were the founders of Hogwarts. For a moment Trish thanked her lucky stars she was in broom cupboard, so she wouldn't meet the teacher who hated muggles so much he planted a giant snake to eat them, on the first night he returns to a school he considers his own. Then she realised she was in a broom cupboard, and that they were arriving by broom. And she was wearing pink bunny pyjamas. She was going to be killed by a magic Hitler in a broom cupboard dressed in pink bunny pjs. Deciding that this was far too humiliating, Trish crept forward turned the handle slightly, hoping to creep by the other teachers. Even just being caught by Snape in a cupboard with this apparel was going to be bad enough. 

Unfortunately the teachers had all stopped talking and as Trish watched, Snape immediately turned and stared at the cupboard. The door was only slightly ajar and enough in darkness that she was sure he couldn't see her. Well, shouldn't be able to see her, but he seemed to be looking straight at her and looking confused. He looked as if he was about to walk over when there was a loud tap on the main doors. McGonagall stepped forward and opened them enough to admit in six cloaked figures. One voice immediately spoke very loudly.

"Five hundred years and you couldn't come up with a more comfortable form of transport then a stick with some more sticks tied to the end with a bit of string." The owner of the voice threw his hood back to reveal a middle aged face, with curly black hair, pale skin, and a large nose, all framed with a black beard that outlined his chin and mouth.

"Oh Sally, five hundred years and your still as bad tempered as the day you died" said a slightly younger witch who had just unveiled to reveal curly dark brown hair and a very cheery face.

"Yes, and you haven't improved with time either, Huff" The man appeared to be wearing a long black robe, with large, puffy arms, with a twisted snake on each, with a knife through them. Another man was also there, with very curly blond hair and a small blond moustache, wearing a red mid length shirt which was tied up with a belt at the waist. He was also wearing a cloak which was held up with two impressive gold pins. He looked around, put both of his hands on his hips and said.

"Well, I see they've kept my amazing décor. Hey Weenie, I see My tower is still taller than yours!" he addressed this to the last member. another witch, wearing a long, old-fashioned blue dress with shoulder length light brown, almost blond hair.

"It's highly unlikely that they would have altered their height, Godric. Now shall we introduce ourselves?" said the witch stepping forward towards McGonagall, Dumbledore and Snape, who were all staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the arrivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise profusely to anyone who likes the founders, but ever since I imagined them as Blackadder Characters I can't see them as anyone else. So introducing Edmund Blackadder as Salazar Slytherin (aka Sally), Queenie as Helga Hufflepuff (aka Huff), Lord Flashheart as Godric Gryffindor and 'Bob' as Rowena Ravenclaw (aka Weenie)


	8. Chapter Seven - The One with Mildred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The founders aren't as many imagined, some one isn't as they seem, and Trish encourages the students to watch Pirates of the Caribbean.

Trish could only see the backs of McGonagall, Dracula and Merlin's heads but the way the stood stock still, and more tellingly the way they didn't respond to the young woman introducing them suggested they were frozen in shock. This was confirmed when Snape was handed the brooms to put away. He walked towards the cupboard, looking back in such a daze that he didn't notice Trish in the cupboard when he opened the door. Nor even when she took the brooms from his momentarily frozen hands and closed the door again. After a while she heard the voices of the visitors die away and when she was sure the coast was clear she made a run for her room.  
In the hall a shadowy figure watched her leave, then raised a shadowy arm and spoke to it. 

"Yes, it's them. They're younger than they... yes... yes I understand... I'll see what I can do. Hold on." 

The handle of the door to the hall turned slowly and Snape re-entered walking carefully and almost silently. He was looking around him, eyes wide, his wand held high. He first headed over to the cupboard, opened it quickly and held his wand up to inspect the now empty space. His brow furrowed in annoyance and he sneered, turning to leave again. Then he seemed to sense something and held his wand out into the hall, looking in the direction of the shadowy figure. His eyes narrowed in concentration. He was just stepping forward when the figure raised a hand and a suit of armour at the other end of the hall fell down with a crash and a door flew open. Snape was out of the door in an instant.  
"I'll report back later" said the figure, and left the room. 

Even as the children walked in for breakfast the next day, Trish could tell that they had heard the news. How, she didn't know. She had told no-one, McGonagall hadn't announced anything and Snape wasn't exactly into chitchat, and the prophet's photographer hadn't arrived yet. But how they knew didn't matter, they knew, and they sat eyeing the teachers table hungrily, waiting for the revelation of the great and famous founders. What did they look like? Speak like? Dress like? How had they arrived? When? How long were they staying and where in the school? All were hot topics of conversation. Many children appeared to have become authorities on the subject by 8 o'clock, despite having been given no information whatsoever. She caught one child enthusiastically insisting that they had burst from statues and paintings. A passing ravenclaw had pointed out that a, the statue in the ravenclaw common room was in perfect condition and b, they had probably arrived through the arch with the others. Regardless of the rumours, everyone was eager to see them. 

They didn't appear, however, until after lunch. Trish was unfortunately sandwiched between Snape and McGonagall. McGonagall was quiet and pensive, looking at the door every few minutes while sipping a coffee. Snape was spewing forth his personal and not very positive opinion of Godric Gryffindor. Trish wasn't sure whether Snape thought he was addressing her or McGonagall as he never seemed to turn enough to look either of them in the eye, and he'd never voluntarily engaged in a conversation with her so she came to the conclusion he was talking to himself to vent his emotions. Finding herself with entertainment on either side, Trish decided to spy on some of her favourite students. 

Lily and Albus potter were deep in conversation over what appeared to be homework. Next to them Rose Weasley had a spoonful of mushy peas aimed at the back of Scorpius Malfoy's head. Milo, whose surname Trish couldn't remember, was talking with great enthusiasm to Abelinda Malfoy, who was staring across at the Gryffindor table. Trish couldn't work out if she was glaring down Rose or staring at Albus, but made a mental note and moved on to spy on the photographer. He didn't look very happy. Apparently he'd been held up by ministry checks, to make sure he wasn't an assassin in disguise. They'd taken his camera to pieces and he was just finishing assembling it when the main doors were flung open and Godric Gryffindor, in a red shirt and trousers with the world's biggest and goldest belt strutted down the hall as if he'd designed the place. Which of course he had, but it was no less arrogant or annoying. His house didn't seem to notice and burst into a roar of clapping and cheering. He was followed by a dignified Rowena all in dark blue, smiling distantly at her house who stood up and cheered and clapped more politely. Behind her Helga, in yellow, tried to copy her, but one look at her house jumping up and down on their benches and whistling in excitement and she was smiling and waving madly back. The last to enter was Salazar, who looked like a moody teenager whose pocket money has been confiscated along with his mobile and internet access. When they reached the table and were tucking in, he turned to glare and the room in general, sat down and asked, loudly, what creature had vomited up the food in front of him.  
"Sally, stop it, you're making a scene" said Helga paling and her eyebrows furrowing. Rowena shot him a glare that would have made McGonagall quiver, but he pulled a mocking face back and put some in his mouth, promptly spitting it out.  
"My stupid muggle servant cooked better than this with cat sick and rabbit droppings!"  
"Shame you fed him to Mildred, like all the others then, isn't it!" shouted Godric, laughing at his own joke, and tearing into a piece of meat with his teeth.  
"He wasn't a terrible servant, he didn't use cat vomit or rabbit droppings and this food is delicious, now be quiet, Salazar!" said Rowena, firmly. For a long moment the entire hall was silent. People's ideas of the founders had been shattered, then pulverised, ground into a fine dust which was then melted into glass and smashed again. Trish looked around the room as everyone, including Professors Smith and Noble stared with the inability to believe their eyes. For a moment she looked between Snape next to her and Salazar some way behind him. Snape, his head in his hands turned to see who she was looking at then glared at her when he noticed the comparison. Trish shrugged her shoulders as Flitwick broke the silence, asking.  
"Who is Mildred?"  
"My pet basilisk. it's fine, she's in senescence. Totally harmless."  
"Ah" said Flitwick. His voice was quiet, but in the silence the sound travelled the length of the hall and echoed slightly. Salazars fork dropped onto his plate.  
"Ah?"  
"Well, you heir released it, as planned but it was killed..."  
"She, not it! And released? Planned? Heir?"  
"Your plan to rid the school of Muggleborns? It is no secret you opposed their entry into the school and planned to use the basilisk to have your revenge."  
Salazar's left eyebrow was attempting to merge with his hairline. Flitwick paled then quietly detailed what Hogwarts history had recorded of him. Salazar stared at him with increasing incredulity then turned on Godric.  
"This is you, this is bloody you!!" he turned back to the hall.  
"Yes, I was never a fan of Mudbloods. Stupid, dirty, illiterate children throwing pig poo everywhere and hoarding turnips. But funnily enough I didn't care enough bury my favourite pet in an intricately designed hole in the ground in the vain hope that centuries after my death some spotty adolescent who happened to know parseltongue would hiss at just the right tap. Even if I had, Mildred was not a fussy eater!"  
"You brought this on yourself Sally, you should have just accepted muggle borns and not gone off in a mood!" said Godric, eating calmly, ignoring the drama.  
"No! You brought this on me. You twisted my words and my actions to make yourself look better. When I left, I left Mildred safe and sound, sleeping. She wasn't doing anyone any harm...."  
"Not until He Who Must Not Be Named released her" said McGonagall quietly.  
"Who? Who can't be named?" asked Salazar, looking around.  
"Don't be silly Salazar, they just said, he can't be named" said Helga, in an obvious voice. Salazar turned and glared at her but she just smiled back at him in an annoying way.  
"Do we know him? Is he in the room?" asked Godric, looking along the staff table and feeling for a sword round his waist that wasn't there.  
"No, he's Salazar's heir and he's the most evil wizard in existence" said Dumbledore, as if remarking about the weather.  
"By any chance is he bald, very pale with slits instead of a nose, red eyes and a long black robe?" asked Rowena, the other founders looking at her and then at McGonagall.  
"How did you know!" asked McGonagall.  
"Lucky Guess" said Rowena.

After the stress of the meal, Trish went for a walk around the lake. It was a wet and windy afternoon but anything was better than being inside with Salazar and Godric. The view over the lake was dreary, the water unsettled as the rain disturbed the surface. The rain was striking her face like ice and she had her scarf up round her face as much as possible. Turning the corner she saw a figure huddled on a bench by the water, wrapped up tight in a black coat and green striped scarf. Pale hair flowed from under a matching hat. And the figures knees were tucked up tight.  
"Abelinda?" Asked Trish, seating herself beside her on the bench.  
"You alright?"  
"Hello Professor" Sniffed Abelinda. Trish fished in her pocket and extracted a clean handkerchief.  
"Thank you" muttered Abelinda, taking it and wiping her eyes, looking embarassed, then blowing her nose.  
"Wanna talk?" asked Trish.  
"Not with a muggle!" spat Abelinda. Trish felt the most offended that she had since she arrived. But she was the adult and Abelinda was a child and she was crying.  
"You... you can keep the handkerchief. I'll go and find Milo or someone..." said Trish getting up.  
"I'm sorry Miss! It's just..." Abelinda promptly burst into a fresh bout of tears and Trish sat down again, feeling awkward. She was tempted to pat Abelinda on the shoulder and say 'there there', but Abelinda wasn't that kind of child. After a few moments she stopped on her own.  
"My father sent me a letter." Internally Trish said ouch. Dad wrote me a letter sounds nice, but 'father sent me' sounds ominous.  
"He says I'm not trying hard enough, not working hard enough. He says I should be in the quidditch team. And that my potions mark is too low and that I'm not even trying in Defence against the Dark Arts. But I hate Quidditch and my potions teacher isn't very helpful."  
"Professor Snape?" asked Trish. Abelinda nodded.  
"Say no more. And Defense against the whodajawhatsits?"  
"He keeps telling us to run from everything. I'm not sure he's even aware there is a syllabus. But Father won't listen. He keeps telling me how well Scorpius is doing and how I can't let them down. But I don't like Potions or Defense. They're rubbish!"  
"What subjects do you like?" asked Trish.  
"Doesn't matter" moaned Abelinda quietly.  
"Yes it does. What is your favourite class?"  
"Not Muggle studies!" snapped Abelinda.  
"Okay" said Trish and waited.  
"Transfiguration, and charms. Herbology isn't bad" said Abelinda.  
"They're perfectly respectable subjects, not like wishy-washy, pointless Muggle Studies!" said Trish seriously, then looked slyly to Abelinda. Abelinda looked at her seriously for a moment, then laughed.  
"Aren't you angry, don't you want me to work harder in Muggle Studies?"  
"I think you work plenty hard enough in Muggle Studies, and anyway, I know what it's like. Believe it or not, muggles have an equivalent subject, which really is pointless. It's called General Studies. Has no point what-so-ever. All about nuclear power and recycling. I spent every lesson playing noughts and crosses or classroom bingo with Steph. Still passed though."  
"So you don't think Muggle Studies is important?"  
"That's not what I said. Muggle Studies is very important. This whole school and probably a lot of wizards and witches sees the muggles and getting to know them as stupid and irrelevant. I am trying to change that…somehow" she shot Abelinda a smile that said she didn't have a clue how.  
"Is it hard being a muggle here Professor?" asked Abelinda, still sniffing slightly.  
"Oh, it's not too bad" said Trish, obviously avoiding Abelinda's eyes. She turned to Abelinda, shaking herself lightly.  
"I know Muggle Studies isn't your favourite subject, but do you want to come to the film night tonight?" asked Trish.  
"I don't think…" said Abelinda, lowering her head slightly.  
"It's 'Pirate's of the Caribbean' and we've got cookie dough ice cream!" said Trish. Abelinda smiled.  
"Okay then"


	9. Chapter Eight - The One with Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trish's first staff meeting is rather memorable. And elsewhere, no nose and the creeper crew are starting to plot.

Two weeks went by and the Founders didn't look like they were going anywhere. The photographer the Prophet had sent spent his first day trying to convince them to take staged photos, which had failed miserably. He'd spent the next 13 days stalking them from afar trying to keep out of Salazar's way. He seemed bored, but the Prophet couldn't get enough of the Founders. Other journalists had been caught trying to sneak onto the grounds, but none had got further than the woods. And questions had been expressly forbidden. From anyone. The Founders wandered around as they wished, and after 13 days it was becoming normal. In a way. 

It was just after classes that afternoon when McGonagall called a meeting in the staff room. It was the first since Trish had been there. By the way the other teachers were reacting, it was the first in a long while. She entered the staffroom to see McGonogall standing by the fire looking serious, but then she always did. Her hands were still and she was regarding people and nodding as they entered. Alida Stevens was standing nearby, still dressed like a renaissance princess, except that she was ticking off people on a clipboard with a biro. Everyone seemed to be fighting for seats in a room made for a much smaller staff. Trish saw a small amount of leaning space on a table next to Professor Noble. Next to her Professor Smith had pulled himself up to sit on the table, so Trish decided to do the same. She turned to her left to see Snape on a high backed chair glaring at her. 

"Tables aren't made to be sat on."

Trish rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and turned to McGonagall who was calling for order. 

"Please, quiet. Please. Thank you." She waited a moment longer. 

"As many of you know, over the last few years we have had to make a great number of changes here. The most noticeable being this years increase in year size, from 120 students a year to 160. Obviously the ministry is looking into this recent surge in students, but that is by the by. We've seen expansions of departments and introduction of form tutors. But I have come to the decision that with this final surge in students, we can no longer place the responsibility of a head of house and a head of department on the same shoulders. Therefore I am dividing those positions as follows" There was a slight murmur. 

"Hestia Carrow will continue as Head of Potions and Severus Snape will resume his position as Head of Slytherin." People were whispering and a thin woman with brown hair is exchanging sharp looks with Snape, who looks down his nose at her. Impressive considering she's standing and he's sitting. 

"Albus Dumbledore will take over as Head of Gryffindor House, filling our recent vacancy, and Nymphadora Tonks, on her return to the school, will be take over as Head of Transfiguration. Filius Flitwick will continue as Head of Charms for one more year, before his retirement, but John Smith will be taking over as Head of Ravenclaw." At this Professor Noble let out a loud raspberry and started laughing at Professor Smith who quickly stood up, eyebrows raised in shock, saying

"No, no. There's been a mistake. I mean..."

"Professor Smith, sit down." said McGonagall sternly then immediately continued.

"Pomona Sprout will be retiring at the end of the term, so Neville Longbottom will take over as Head of Herbology and lastly the position of Head of Hufflepuff will go to Patricia Glossop" For a moment there was stunned silence. Trish was staring at McGonagall, waiting for her to speak. To say it was a joke. Just to say another name, because clearly she hadn't just said Patricia Glossop. Finally she managed a quiet.

"Excuse me?" The room erupted. Everyone was talking, some shouting. She heard Flitwick crying

"Headmistress, she has only been here a month. Surely Susan Bones..."

"Is leaving in 6 months on maternity leave." repplied McGonagall. 

"The Muggle is useless, immature, inexperienced and" Snape was cut off as Trish jumped to her feet and turned on him.

"And has a damn name!" she yelled, silencing the room.  
Snape narrowed his eyes.

"You have been here less than 5 weeks. You are not exactly the most popular teacher in your house, not even in your limited department of two. You have no understanding of this school, it's history and traditions. And you constantly act with less maturity than the students!"

"At least I'm not..." Trish was cut off by McGonagall. She was glad. She was struggling to think of a retort. That was the worst part about Snape. He had a damned point. A few in fact. Although she didn't think that just because she drank from a 'Little Miss Chatterbox' mug and had a Lego Yoda on a key ring she should be labelled immature. 

"I will not have an open discussion about individual appointments. These positions are provisional. I understand that there will be a lot for some people to take in, so come and talk to me if you have any issues. Changing the subject!" Her voice rose as she spoke.

"I would like to announce that, in celebration of the Founders return, we will be having a Yule Ball this year." This received a more positive murmur. People looking around smiling at each other. 

"We haven't had one in quite a while, but it seemed appropriate. Everyone will be invited, Staff and students, even down to first years. And a number of previous staff who have returned will be joining us. As well as the Minister for Magic. It promises to be quite an illustrious affair. So best behaviour everyone." She glared pointedly at Snape at this point, who did his best impression of Dracula realising his victim had a necklace of garlic on and sat down in a huff, picking up a copy of the Prophet. 

"That's all" concluded McGonagall over the chatter.  
"Oh, Ne... Professor Longbottom, can I have a word"

Trish was walking along the corridor back to her room when she heard someone shouting  
"Professor Glossop!" she turned to see Neville Longbottom running up to her.  
"Professor Glossop can I... Oh, first congratulations on your appointment. Head of Hufflepuff, it's an important job."  
Trish rolled her eyes.  
"I think they want to see me crash and burn."  
"No, no no! Professor McGonagall sees a lot of potential in you. She thinks you could really make the job your own." said Neville a little too enthusiastically.  
"If you say so, Professor Longbottom. Can I call you Neville. Congratulations yourself on Head of Herbology. Your appointment was a lot less controversial."  
"I'm an old face round here. They know I've wanted that position for a couple of years now. They probably gave it to me out of sympathy. Anyway, that aside, I was wondering if you had a date for the Yule Ball."  
Trish looked at Neville oddly.  
"Won't your wife want to come?"  
"Hannah won't be able to make it. With the number of people staying at the pub for the arrival of the founders, and now all those who'll want to stay there on the night of the ball, she'll be run off of her feet."  
"Oh, that's a shame. Can't she get anyone to cover?"  
"She owns the pub, and she's rather attached to it. Besides, the busier you are, the more you need the experienced people."  
"True. But that is a shame. I'll go with you then, if she's okay with it."  
"I'm sure she will. I'll speak to you later Professor Glossop."  
"Trish" said Trish smiling, and mounting the stairs. As she turned the corner and surveyed the students running around below her in a mad dash she noticed Snape and Alida Stevens deep in a very serious conversation. For a moment Trish had the mad idea he was asking her to the Yule Ball, but that was absurd. Alida would be looking more offended and she simply couldn't imagine Snape asking anyone out anywhere. Except to detention. Smiling at her own joke she carried on walking. 

Later that day walking to lunch, she was joined by Professor Flitwick, who started describing several previous years Yule Balls in detail and the previous attendees. Trish was half listening when Professor Flitwick asked.  
"I don't suppose you would like to attend the ball with me, Professor Glossop?"  
"Oh, that's very sweet of you, Professor Flitwick... I'm afraid I've already agreed to go with Neville."  
"Oh, young Longbottom. Lovely lad. His wife, Hannah is a sweet girl too. I taught both of them when they were here."  
"Oh really? You don't look old enough!"  
"You're very sweet, Professor Glossop, but unconvincing. I must head off, choir practice."  
"Oh, Professor Flitwick! A couple of the students have expressed an interest in putting on a musical."  
"Oh, that sounds interesting, but I'll talk to you later. I'm late I'm afraid."  
Trish frowned to herself as she continued walk. Two invites to the ball when she's the most unpopular person in the building. Well second most unpopular. Something fishy was going on. 

On a dreary field, surrounded by autumnly dreary trees, stood the ruins of what would have been a rather impressive, if formidable looking estate. Designed by someone with a lot of money, an unnatural affection for chimneys and gargoyles, and an aversion to social interaction. A couple of the walls had fallen in a number of years ago, allowing a strong gust to blow through the still furnished rooms inside, slamming doors and ruffling curtains. Standing in one of these rooms, dimly lit with magic flames, were three men, dressed all in black. Two were set apart, waiting for the other to speak. The first, with long white hair, and wrinkles was trying to look as if he wasn't leaning on the silver snake headed cane he held behind his back. He rubbed his thumb along the snake's eye and blinked quickly. The man next him was shorter, with mostly grey hair, larger built than his partner and less alert. The last figure was stood apart from them. Dressed in a long flowing black robe, bald with skin whiter than paper. They stood for a long moment, the only sound the howling of the wind and the occasional slam of a door, which made the first man jump and lean more on his cane. Finally the solitary figure turned round, revealing bright red bloodshot eyes, and two slits where his eyes should have been.  
"How?" he asked. 

"Because you tried to kill Potter using the Elder wand, but because Draco had been the wand's master, and Potter had won it's allegiance when he took it from Draco, it back fired and destroyed you. He destroyed all your other Horcruxes, you destroyed him and he was one and..."

"Lucius, you've become a prattling old fool. It has been a month since my resurrection and I still do not know how I was resurrected!"

"Does it matter, my Lord? You have returned" said the man next to Lucius. 

"Does it matter? Someone has discovered the secret to control life and death. Has discovered the key to immortality, and you ask if it's important? That which I have sought and struggled for my whole life, and you question it's worth?"  
Lucius was glaring mockingly at the man beside him. 

"Do not look so please, Malfoy. Security at the ministry will be lax soon as they prepare for this Yule Ball. Investigate the Arch. Try not to draw attention to yourself and report back to me immediately. Send Bellatrix in as you leave" he said, turning to show that the interview was at an end. 

The two men looked at each other nervously and walked quietly out of the room. A moment passed while Voldemort stood contemplating the wall silently. He heard the door creak slightly and heard footsteps cautiously walk across the room from his left to right behind him. He turned slowly just as they stopped, to face a woman with wild black hair, wild grey eyes and a dress whose arms looked like a spider had had a bad day, got in a tangle, thrown a hissy fit then thrown the towel in. Her wide eyes studied the man carefully and tentatively she said

"My Lord?"

"You failed me, Bellatrix" 

"Your failure against the blood traitor, Weasley, distracted me when most I needed control. You will make retribution for your weakness"

"My lord, I ..."

"Silence, Bellatrix. You will earn your loyalty by bringing me the abomination that presides at Hogwarts!"

"Dumbledore!" said Bellatrix, her eye's bright. 

"No. Not that abomination. I will deal with him in due course. On the night of the Yule Ball, in the midst of their celebrations, when they feel most safe, we will remind Dumbledore and all his followers that I still have power. We will strike at this new pet of theirs, ridding the school of this contamination. The new teacher of muggle studies. A poor lamb snatched from the most safely guarded ball Hogwarts has ever seen. They will fear me!" 

"I will enjoy seeing her scream as she dies." 

"I want her alive, Bellatrix!" said Voldemort, turning on her.  
"I want the enjoyment of destroying her myself. Too long I have been locked in a cage. I need to see the life flicker from her eyes. Besides, I have seen her image in the Prophet. It bares a similarity to those who opposed me. I would like to see those faces twisted in agony, again. Bring her to me alive... enough to feel pain. Send Wormtail in as you leave" 

A chubby man with beady eyes and finger nails like mole's claws walked in, leading a very serious looking Alida Stevens. 

"Who is this?" demanded Voldemort.

"Alida Stevens. She works at Hogwarts. She's offering her assistance."

"For a mudblood you are either very brave or very stupid. You will live as long as your living entertains me." At this Voldemort drew his wand and started twisting it lightly against his finger, looking at Alida.

"I am no mudblood" said Alida, a sneer wrinkling her perfectly straight nose. 

"That is not what I was informed."

"The ministry seeks to see itself as sympathetic to mudbloods, so favours their applications for positions in the ministry. Seeing the prejudice with which those of us with pure blood are treated, I chose to lie to obtain what I hoped would be a position of some power."

"And yet you are a secretary at Hogwarts."

"Yes, my Lord. I control the files of all Students and Teachers currently in attendance and for the last ten years. I know where they live, who their parents and grandparents are, what they look like, who they are friends with. Even what they are allergic to."

"You claim to be of pure blood." said Voldemort suspiciously.

"Of German descent my Lord. Descended from the the Musäus of Bavaria. My parents, Mechea and Adredrik emmigrated from Germany in 1972. My great grand father was Marius Black. There is no taint in my lineage." Voldemort seemed to consider for a moment.

"And what of your conversations with Severus Snape."

"I asked him to bring me to you. I did not realise he had strayed so far. He does not remember the conversation." 

"All that you have said will be tested. As will you. If you are serious about joining me, I have a task for you to complete."

"Gladly, my Lord" smiled Alida.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In advance, I'm not trying to make Snape such a git, it just kinda happens, but I am going to be looking at his character more. Also I'm not Mary- Sueing Trish. There is reasons for what's happening and it isn't "cos she's so amazing and everyone loves her" Deeper, darker reasons. Which I want to hint at but I don't want to ruin the story.


	10. Chapter Nine - The One with the library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a little night time wander, Trish goes for a visit to the library.

Trish was having one of those horrible dreams. Like the one where you try to move but you feel tied down, as if someone is sitting on your chest or you're trying to run through golden syrup. But it was different. She felt like Wallace in the wrong trousers and she couldn't see properly, like through really strong lenses. She was walking along a corridor. There’s a flash like a camera and for a moment Hogwarts is a ruin, half a wall gone, everything a dusty grey. Then it’s gone and she’s in the corridor again. Then she was in an office, she couldn't tell whose. She was rifling through papers but she couldn't see the pages. Then a second later, she was in a corridor again, dragged by a will not her own. Next, no time having passed, she was in McGonagall's office. In her pyjamas. Reading through papers again. She thought she glimpsed a picture of an arch and managed to read 'healing'. Then she was in the hall and all the windows were blown out and a massive hole in the right hand wall. She blinked and, she was in the school office. She just about remembered thinking it looked too much like a normal school office for Hogwarts. Then she was in the corridor again. Then she felt a distinctly she needed to go and teach her class. She climbed the stairs with an overwhelming sense of being late. She got to the top and thought "this is stupid, it's night. My class room is on the 3rd floor, not the 7th anyway. I should go back to bed." She turned around on the top step to turn back. There weren't any stairs there anymore. For a moment she was suspended in mid air then suddenly pulled back violently. 

 

Trish became full conscious standing at the top of the stairs, Professor McGonagall looking at her and speaking loudly.

"Patricia! Patricia M'dear can you hear me?"

"Ow! Yes, sorry Headmistress."

"Are you with us now?" 

"With us? Where am I?" Patricia's heart was racing.

"You're on the grand staircase on the seventh floor. You are fine, you are not in any danger."

"I... I was dreaming. I was in the school office and in your office and something about scrolls, and then everything was a mess..."

"A mess, m'dear?" McGonagall seemed very concerned. 

"All ruins. The hall was all blown apart and all rubble and..." McGonagall pulled her into an awkward side hug and patted her back enthusiastically. 

"It's okay. We all have very vivid dreams once in a while. Severus and I will escort you back to your room."

"Severus?" Trish questioned, looking around. Her eyes lit on Snape. She felt angry and humiliated. How dare he be here to see her make a fool of herself. 

"Yes, muggle, I do have a first name."

"Stop calling me that!" shouted Trish

"Patricia! Calm down. You've just had quite a shock. It's not good to wake a sleepwalker, but you were just about to walk off of the..." McGonagall stuttered to a halt as she realised what she was saying. For a moment Trish was silent. Then she turned to stare at Snape for a moment. 

"Please tell me HE didn't save me!" Dracula glared back then turned away, burying his arms in his robe. McGonagall stood up a little straighter. 

"Sometimes, M'dear, your sense of priorities baffles me. But if it makes you feel any better, no he didn't." McGonagall's worry was fading and her stern Headmistress demeanour returning. 

"Thank you, headmistress" It was still humiliating being saved by your boss, but at least she didn't owe Dracula a favour. 

"Right, lets get you back to your room"

As they walked Trish realised, or at last it clicked, that both were fully dressed.

"Are we expecting anyone?" she asked, looking at McGonagall, ignoring Snape completely. 

"Oh, oh no. I guess we do seem quite nocturnal here, after the night Albus and Severus returned. Severus and I had a late meeting discussing... school security for the ball." 

They carried on in silence for a moment, Trish trying not to read into McGonagall's pause. She failed, turned to Snape, both eyebrows raised and eyes wide, and looked between him and McGonagall. For a moment his brows furrowed in confusion then his eyes hardened and his hands by his side clenched. 

"Don't be ridiculous!" he hissed at her.

Trish shrugged her shoulders, trying hard not to smile.

"Severus?" asked McGonagall.

"Nothing Headmistress" said Snape, eyes narrowed on Trish, who was trying her hardest to act innocent. 

"Right, here we are. Good night Patricia" 

"Good night Headmistress." said Trish closing the door behind her. 

As they walked away, McGonagall turned to Snape. 

"I am not wholly convinced that tonight's stroll was merely sleepwalking."

"No," affirmed Snape.

"It's late now. We will speak about this again tomorrow. First thing." 

 

 

Trish was walking along the corridor some days later, hugging a big, pink ring binder folder. She had been given many strange looks during the first few weeks for this strange piece of equipment. Somehow magic folk we're able to transport large numbers of scrolls without flattening them. Trish had yet to figure out how, and so was forcing her reluctant students to use lined A4 so she could store it in folders. A decision they didn't particularly like her for. They only thing she could see she was liked for at the moment was film night. And only because the students were allowed to stay up later to attend. Following Dracula's comments about her lack of knowledge of Hogwarts or Hufflepuff house, Trish had decided she probably needed to do some research. Professor McGonagall had suggested "Hogwarts, A History", but even the name suggested to Trish a large, dusty volume with tiny writing and no pictures.

Trish entered the library, glanced at the desk where the librarian sat critically glaring at a group of students silently studying on some tables in front of her. She walked past the students and entered the maze of shelves, looking for the history section. Unfortunately there didn't appear to be any particular order to the sections in the library. Trish found herself reading the titles "Elementary Potions", a rather large volume, "A hundred uses for Poisoned Dragon's Liver", slightly slimmer, but an odd purplish red colour cover and Trish cringed to think what had dyed it. Another "Torchwood: Uses and Misuses", convinced Trish she was in the wrong area, and she was just turning to leave when she heard a strange whistling sound and then two voices whispering behind the shelves opposite.

"It's not this one, damn it, it's the next one up" said Professor Smith as Trish turned the corner. 

"Well don't look at me. It's your…."Professor Noble stopped as she noticed Trish.

"Can't you find any of the books either?" asked Trish in a whisper, stepping closer. Professor Smith had his hands driven deep into his pockets and Professor Noble had turned round defensively.

"They don't have it." Said Professor Smith. Trish frowned,

"The next edition of "Hogwarts, A History", out in a few days, I thought it was out already. They've got the previous one" he said, pulling a volume of the shelf. A number of other books fell from the shelf as he did so, and they all ducked to start collecting the scattered volumes.

"I think that's what I'm looking for" said Trish quietly. There was a sudden   
"Shhh" and the Librarian appeared round the corner, glaring even more forcefully at them.

"We better go" mouthed Professor Smith, handing her the last two books he had, "Hogwarts, A History" and a tiny slim book. Professor Noble mouthed "bye" and they both made a quick exit.

Trish glanced down to see what she was holding and her eyes alighted on the small volume. It stood out, Its cover was a mixture of loud colours and cartoon style characters and it was very short. It was entitled "Ridiculous Magical Myths" and Trish thought that this was the kind of book she'd like to read. She smiled, and carried it to the desk.


	11. Chapter Ten - The One with the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trish's Yule Ball is a night for everyone to remember, for all the wrong reasons.

Before Trish knew it there was only a week until the Yule Ball and she found herself surprised at her own nerves. McGonagall had kindly picked out an appropriately traditional dress for her to wear and Trish detested it more than any other garment in existence. A monstrosity in puke yellow, it did up down at her wrists and so high up her neck it was holding her chin up and chaffing her. It also had disgusting puffed sleeves and a mountain of material in a meringue skirt. She could just imagine Dracula’s cruel lip curl and cutting remarks about looking like a giant snot. Besides Trish had a lovely sherbet dress, probably a little shorter than the dresses others would be wearing, but she couldn’t believe they’d all be dressed THAT traditionally.   
Trish only realised how wrong she was as Neville lead her down the main stair case to where guests were congregating to head into the great hall. It was like a medieval re-enactment fair and suddenly Trish felt like she was wearing about as much as a bath towel. Even the music drifting in from the hall fitted the historical feel.   
“Ah, looks like I might be more conspicuous than I anticipated”  
“I guess you didn’t have many balls at your school” said Neville, sympathetically.   
“We had two proms, they were... similar to balls. Ish. Less dressy, more 90s disco music. We had one in the sports hall and my History teacher got a little drunk and danced to I’m too sexy”  
“Sounds awful” said Neville.  
“It was laugh, actually” said Trish as they dismounted the stairs.   
“Sorry, I mean...”  
“Muggle, you appear to have forgotten to get dressed.” Said Snape interrupting with his lip curled cruelly anyway.   
“I’d say you look nice too, Severus, but you look as much like the you’ve been sucking lemons as usual.”  
“If you honestly think this... garment will be considered appropriate, you are mistaken.”  
“Why don’t you leave her alone” snapped Neville, his face looking a mixture of anger and terror.   
“Remember who you are speaking to, Longbottom” hissed Snape darkly.  
“He’s not your pupil anymore Sev.”  
“Don’t call me that!” Said Snape, glaring at Trish  
“Then don’t call me Muggle. She we go and find some food or drink, Neville?”  
"There are a lot of people here" said Trish, trying to make conversation as they walked through the hall.  
"Oh Yes. In honour of the founders’ return some pretty high ranking people have been invited this year. Even the Minister of Magic, Sebastian Montague is here"  
"Minister of Magic? I've never heard of that one"  
"He's the equivalent of your Prime Minister, he leads the Wizarding government, the Ministry of Magic. He's made some spectacular reforms since he's been in power. But he’s a bit..."  
“A bit?”  
“He likes to ‘get involved’, and not always where he’s welcome”  
“Ah!”  
The hall was decorated with five Christmas trees. The a the long tables except the top table were gone, and there were round tables with flowers and name places on, and in the centre of the room was a large dancing area. A band with men with long hair but wearing the smart dress robes and a woman in a slightly formal looking dress, but short were fiddling around getting ready. Next to them a classical band was already waiting. Beyond that the top table was furnished with finger foods. But wizardy finger foods. Trish noticed that there weren't many students present.  
"Only fourth years and above are invited, unless they are invited by someone in the fifth year or above to be their date” explained Neville.   
"Oh yes, I see Abelinda, she's come with an older boy from Slytherin. It's one of her brother's friends, Crabbe isn't it"  
"Spitting image of his father, as is Scorpius, pretty similar in character as well" said Neville, and Trish had images of a young boy scared by one of these bullies.  
"It must feel a bit like history repeating itself sometime here" said Trish  
"You have no idea. Miss Glossop, I’m not really feeling very hungry, would you like to dance instead?”  
“Yeah, the food’s not inspiring me either. Sorry if I tread on your feet.”  
Trish was just turning to dance when she spotted McGonagall’s furious face.  
“It won’t just be yours either, by the looks of things.”  
As they waltzed formally round the room, Trish just trying to not tread on Neville’s toes, she watched the people around her. Abelinda had been abandoned and was watching the dancers mournfully, her eyes falling on Albus Potter, who was dancing with a pretty girl from his year. Her partner was sitting round a table talking to Doyle in a conspiratorial manner whilst Scorpius listened whilst gazing into the air in front of him where Rose Weasley was dancing with a boy in Ravenclaw from the fifth year. As she past Snape she thought he was glaring at her, then realised it was only because she had got in his line of sight, and he was in fact glaring at McGonagall and Trelawney across the room who were discussing something seriously and animatedly.   
It was at this point that Trish's eyes focused on a man who appeared to be a weird medieval cosplay of Zorro without the mask. Trish thought he looked ridiculous, vain and self important. By the way McGongall ran to meet him Trish guessed he must be the ‘Minister for Magic’. In between twirls, Trish saw McGonagall talking with him animatedly and then reluctantly stepping towards Trish. The minister’s eyes darkened as they fell on Trish, and Trish and Neville stopped dancing and stepped awkwardly forward.  
"Patricia, this is the Minister for Magic, Sebastian Montague. Minister, this is Patricia Glossop, our new muggle….." McGonagall trailed off as she noticed the icy look on the ministers face  
“What is this? I give you the free reign to hire who you feel appropriate and you chose a common tart...”  
“Excuse me! I’m right here! And I’m not dressed like a tart. This dress is knee length! Just because you lot are stuck in the dark ages!” shouted Trish back  
“Patricia!”  
“Not only does she dress like a harlot...”  
By now the band had stopped and all ears were on the conversation happening in the middle of the dance floor.   
“You’re gonna get such a sl...”  
“... her language is foul...”  
“I never bloody swore!” shouted Trish, outraged.   
“and her demeanour insulting. I want her fired now! And don’t think that this won’t go un-noted in the Ministry.”  
“Neville, please escort Miss Glossop outside...” The Minister for magic smiled smugly.   
“To calm down.”   
"And as for you, Minister. You have no jurisdiction to appoint or fire teachers. If, if it is decided that Professor Glossop needs to be replaced, WE will decide on the replacement Here." Said McGonagall sternly. Sebastian Montague’s face reddened dramatically.   
“As it is, all I can see is hot headedness which needs a little discipline. In all other aspects Patricia has proved a most competent teacher and an original thinker. I can only think your dislike of her stems from some ingrained purist beliefs or ... outdated ideas of appropriate female clothing.”  
"You are treading on dangerous ground, Headmistress. You do realise that if I wished I could have you removed." Said Sebastian Montague angrily. McGonagall went to reply but was cut off.   
"Actually, I think you'll find that such an attempt by the ministry to so obviously undermine the independence of this institution would be taken very negatively, especially in the press, and would be very damaging to your public image" said Dumbledore stepping in abruptly. Sebastian Montague considered a moment then turned to the woman who was with him and said.  
"We're leaving now, come one" and with that they stormed out. Dumbledore was smiling slightly at his success when he turned to face McGonagall and wished he hadn't said anything.  
"If I need your help I will ask for it, instead of making me look like the deputy head!" with that McGonagall stormed out and up the stairs as well.   
Outside Trish had angrily shoved off Neville and then started pacing up and down along part of the pavement outside. After a few moments Neville gave up and returned to the hall, and Trish was left wearing a very short line in the stone beneath her, ignoring the couple making out obnoxiously loudly behind a rose bush.   
“I told you that dress was inappropriate” said Snape, materialising annoying.  
“Sod off!”  
“Language, muggle. Do you realise how ridiculous you look? You’ve just humiliated yourself in front of the most powerful political figure in the country. My guess is that if he gets his way you’ll be on the next train out of here. If not, you’re only staying as part of Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore’s power struggle with the ministry. You’re just a pawn for them to prove they aren’t under ministry control.”   
“You can be a five star bastard at times, has anyone ever told you that?” said Trish, turning on him,   
“I’m only telling you the truth” said Snape in a way which suggested he was enjoying it too.   
“No, you’re being mean because you enjoy watching me fail. You get a sadistic enjoyment out of watching others in pain! Well I don’t want to hear your ‘truths’. I know I’ve got a temper, but there is nothing wrong with this dress, and I am doing the best I can. I know I’m a good teacher, like I know you’re a crap one. So you can sod off and leave me alone!” shouted Trish, stalking off.  
“Where are you going now?”   
“For a long walk around the lake so I can vent at a cold blooded slimy creature that I Actually like!” shouted Trish in reply. Snape scowled and headed indoors.   
Trish got half way around the lake and sat down on the same log where she’d sat with Abelinda. She’d tried so hard in this job to make things work, to overcome people prejudices and prove her worth. And now some big wig had turned up and ruined it. And she had decidedly not helped by losing her temper. She got up again and kicked a stone forcefully into the lake. It was heavier than it looked and her pumps didn’t cushion the blow much.  
“Oh Shhhhhugar plum cakes!” said Trish hopping, and turning, only to face a woman with a mass of matted black hair and a face like she’s been manically, desperately hunting for something and just found it.   
"This is about to become the worst day of your life…"  
"Shove off!" said Trish before she'd thought, and she grabbed the wand and snapped it over her knee. Sparks flew and there was a loud snapping sound. The woman was so shocked that she stood still for a second   
“Bloody wizards” muttered Trish turning to walk off, then suddenly everything went black. Trish’s body collapsed like a rag doll, but with a louder thump. Lucius Malfoy was standing behind her, his signature cane raised. But no wand was drawn.  
"Maybe muggle skills can come in useful" he said grinning.


	12. Chapter Eleven - The One After the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trish is kidnapped from the ball, by a couple who should probably be more adept at kidnapping. How will she escape? And why have I nicked an idea from disney?? (virtual cookie of you can spot it).

Lucius Malfoy stood over Trish's limp body for a second, before throwing back his hood.  
"Well, that was remarkably easy"  
"This was MY task! what are You doing here?" said Bellatrix, grinding her teeth and clenching her fists.  
"Your sister was worried about you, and Insisted I come to your aid. It's lucky I did" said Lucius nodding down at the snapped wand dangling from Trish's hand. As he did he noticed that Trish was staring back up at him. Her eyes were wide in a look of absolute confusion.  
"Your…your…" stuttered Trish  
"I'm Lucius Malfoy," said Lucius, raising his wand  
"Oh, thank goodness for that. I thought you were Lego..." said Trish, and Lucius stunned her again, not paying much attention. Then he raised his hood again and then turned to Bellatrix again.  
"Quickly. someone's coming, we must get back to your port key" Lucius leant down and was reaching under Trish's arm. Bellatrix knelled down too to help and they lifted Trish up between then and started half dragging her away from the lake and towards the woods. 

"What are doing? Leave her alone! Sally! Help!" Turning as they neared the trees Bellatrix glimpsed a woman in a yellow robe of a very old style running after them, wand raised, her other hand hitching her long dress up. Lucius saw her too and they tried to pick up the pace. 

"Stop! Leave her alone! Leav..." The young woman cartwheeled forward, tripping over her dress, but she sat up quickly and screamed.  
"Help, somebody help her!" 

Not thinking, Bellatrix pulled Trish away from Lucius and dropped down to lift Trish onto her shoulders. Trish was heavier than she looked, but now was not the time to think of it. A couple of figures could be seen sprinting across the lawn at speed. One man in a black suit, with a short black cape looked familiar even in the dim light thrown from the school. A spell hit the tree just to the right of Trish's unconscious head. 

"It's the goblet stuck into that tree, run, no to the right!"

With that Lucius ran as fast as he could limp ahead of her the last few metres. They touched the goblet together and disappeared just as Salazar Slytherin and Neville Longbottom entered the wood. The goblet evaporated just as they went to touch it, both pulling their hands away dramatically. A rather bedraggled Helga Hufflepuff joined them a moment later.

"Have you got her?"  
"No, they got away."  
"Oh Sally, can't you do something?"  
"Right now, Huff? No!"  
"I should have been here, I should have been looking after her"  
"I hate to make a Gryffindor feel better, but you couldn't have predicted this." said Salazar  
"Let's get back to the school. That's the quickest way to help her now"

Back inside Hogwarts, a band called 'Jingo' was just starting to play something Trish may have considered more modern. Although their instruments included bagpipes, they did have something similar to an electric guitar, a drum set and something resembling a keyboard. People had started dancing and the music was quite loud. Even McGonagall was looking less apprehensive, despite the Minister for Magic's dramatic exit. The students were gossiping again and the only problem seemed to be the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins starting a stealth food fight through the dance floor.  
Neville entered the hall feeling slightly sick and looking pale. He walked towards Professor McGonagall and began  
"Professor..."  
"Oh, Neville, there you are. No Trish? She's gone to bed I assume, after making such a spectacle of herself."  
"No, Headmistress, she... she went for walk to calm down." Salazar and Helga joined him by McGonagall.  
"Oh, that's a good idea"  
"No, Headmistress. Headmistress, she was, she's been..."  
"Professor Glossop was taken by a hooded, shadowy figure, down by the woods" said Salazar carefully.  
"Threw her over their shoulder and disappeared in the woods, using some kind of portkey" added Helga more animatedly.  
"There was two of them, Headmistress" said Neville.  
"And one of them was Bellatrix Lestrange." Neville was visibly shaken as he spoken.  
"The other had a limp, but I didn't see a face, maybe some blonde hair. Could tell if a man or a woman"  
"I'm sorry, Headmistress. I didn't mean for this to happen" Said Neville, sadly.  
"We'll talk later Neville, Flitwick contact the Aurors" with this McGonagall walked quickly to the front of the hall up onto the stage, making a quick motion to silence the band  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please. Hogwarts has experienced a serious security breach. All students will return to their common rooms where the heads of houses will register ALL of the students. Pomona, if you could cover Hufflepuff. Miss Stevens, if you could distribute the school registers and guest lists. All of the other guests will remain in the hall until we have confirmed everyones whereabouts and then you will be evacuated calmly by floo. Slughorn, Flitwick, gather a search party to sweep the school. Snape, Longbottom... we'll search the woods."  
"She isn't there. She's gone" said Snape, seriously  
"What do you want me to do, Snape? Nothing?" asked McGonagall desperately.  
"I can't just stand by as the first muggle teacher at Hogwarts is murdererd."  
"You can't search the woods alone either Headmistress!" said Goddrick stepping forward, stern faced.  
"I can't risk your lives! You're the founders! You'll be the first evacutated"  
"We're big boys and girls and this is OUR school!" said Rowena seriously, drawing her wand.  
"She's head of my house now, I'm not going anywhere" said Helga seriously.  
"She's not there, I saw her disappear myself." said Salazar darkly.  
"You coward! We must do something!" shouted Gryffindor.  
"As much as I admire your noble character" said Salazar to Gryffindor as only Salazar could  
"It would be a fruitless search. Any clues we could find would be better seen by daylight. I and your head of Charms will go and study what is left of the Port key to see if that can help us locate it's intended destination. Everyone else would be more useful securing the school."  
"Fine, Flitwick, please accompany Salazar to the sight of the... incident. Everyone else, we'll start from the dungeons and work up." 

In the suspiciously gloomy house some way away Trish was blindfolded, gagged and her hands and feet tied. A bald, white skinned, red eyed man in black was standing over her enjoying the moment. He twisted the tip of his wand on the tip of his left index finger and a twisted smile spread across his face. The woman with hair like a mesh and a dress whose arms looked like they were barely hanging on, stood still, silently flexing her hands in her nervousness, looking between Trish and the man. Eventually her impatience overcame her fear and she mumbled.  
"My Lord?"  
"Yes, Bellatrix, you fulfilled your task," the man's expression didn't change. The woman breathed an almost audible gasp of relief, but it was short lived  
"However, I am aware of the fact that without Lucius' help you would not have completed this simple task. Go. And show Lucius in on your way out." The man continued to glare at Trish as if horrid plans were going through his head, as indeed they were. Bellatrix, ashen faced, turned slowly and left.  
A moment later Lucius Malfoy entered, leaning more on his cane than he cared anyone to notice and walked quickly over to the man. Turning his head slightly, but without taking his eyes off Trish the white man said  
"Take her blindfold off"  
Bending down at the knees and hoping that the Dark Lord didn't notice the slight creak as he did so, Lucius lent forward and yanked the material from Trish's eyes. Blinking she looked up at Voldemort, her eyes scared, but defiantly she wrinkled her nose in disgust.  
"THIS is the Dark Lord" said Lucius looking up at the man. Trish was silent for a second then said  
"Ee ahuh oo aa oo. Ohh ah ih" Although Lucius had expected not to understand her, as Trish was gagged, he was surprised by the sounds she made, as if she was trying to say something. The Dark Lord, looking deep into her eyes gripped his wand tighter.  
"Take off her gag" he said in a suspiciously quiet voice. After spluttering for a while and shaking her head Trish looked at Lucius and said  
"Thought you were an elf to be honest. And 'e doesn't look anything like 'the Dark Lord', hasn't even got a nose, let alone the one..."  
In a flash the man's wand was out and he yelled "Crucio!"  
Trish felt the most searing pain she'd ever felt in her life, like someone was prodding her with a thousand white hot pokers. Her head felt as if it was being crushed in a giant pair of nutcrackers and at the same time as if someone was pulling her fingernails and toe nails out. It continued for what seemed like an eternity then it stopped.  
"My Lord!" Bellatrix was shouting.  
"Why are you disturbing me?" shouted Voldemort, turning quickly.  
"The figure, the figure I saw at the school! Stevens, the administrator confirmed my suspicions. It was Salazar Slytherin!"  
"Yes, Bellatrix! I know all of this!"  
"But he was young, my Lord! No older than the mudblood! He has... lost years! So have the other founders. I wanted to confirm it before I reported it to you."  
For a moment she let the information sink in. Then Voldemort's arm dropped and his eyes took on a different kind of madness.  
"Not only the key to immortality, but eternal youth! Lucius, where is the information you gathered from the Ministry?"  
"I have it with me, my Lord, with my things. But we've been through it, my Lord, over and over..."  
"Then we will go over it AGAIN! There must be something!"  
"My Lord, the muggle?"  
"She is a distraction! Let her freeze in this moulding mess, whilst I look over your information again." With that he swept from the room, followed by Bellatrix, and not so graciously by Lucius. A key turned in the lock.  
As their footsteps died away Trish starting thinking of ways of escape. She was shivering from head to foot, a cold sweat all over her, but the attack had been short lived enough to have had a minimal effect on her mind. She looked around for something sharp on which to try and scratch off the ropes that bound her hands. The room she was in was dark, with two large windows behind her, curtains open to the night. The moon, shining in, provided some light but it was hardly ideal.  
On Trish's right was the door and next to that a huge fireplace surrounded by some moulding seats. The rest of the walls were covered in books. She was in a library, and there is rarely any use for a blade in a library. It was then that Trish began to properly panic, pulling at the ropes which bound her arms and legs in the vain hope that it would help and thinking thinking about undoing ropes. Suddenly those that were binding her hands became lose and she managed to pull her arms free. She turned around expecting them to have turned into a snakes, but the ropes lay there innocently. They seemed to have broken and Trish guessed that whoever had tied her had got lazy and used some old rope. She undid the ropes which tied her feet but it took a few minutes. As soon as that was done she quietly as possible crept over to the window. One glance was enough to show her that she was in the middle of no-where. A vast moor, not many trees, not even any telegraph poles. Looking down she noted she was at least two stories up. There was only one door in the room. In the far corner was a coat stand with a couple of cloaks on it. She rushed over, checking behind, but even before she got there, she knew there was no other door. Turning back to the window, Trish fought back the urge to cry. This was bad, really bad, but crying wouldn't help her.  
"Ah, the poor little mudblood trash is afraid to die!" mocked a voice. Trish turned around but the room seemed empty. A disembodied laugh echoed from above the fire place and Trish slowly crossed over to it, avoiding a plank for no apparent reason. Above the fireplace was hung a huge painting. But Trish could not tell what it portrayed because it had be slashed in two great cuts which meant that a lot of it was hanging down over the rest of it. Just off of the side of what was left Trish could make out a woman's eye and nose and a slice of her lips which were blood red. Trish's near fatal curiosity made her carefully lift a foot stool and place it by the fireplace, climb onto it and lift the slashed piece of painting to reveal what lay behind. It was a couple. The woman, wearing a dark green dress, had short curly hair which was almost black, which was held by some power in beautiful waves. Her eyes were clear blue and her nose was slightly hooked and was currently wrinkled, as she looked at Trish.  
"So this is the abomination in all it's glory" said the woman, with a hint of a Spanish accent. She didn't like the woman. She turned to survey the man. He had straight dark hair cut quite short, with a long but not pointed nose, and he was wearing a black dress robe. His mouth, which had lips which were little more than two lines were drawn tight and his eyes were unkind.  
"Worse than Snape, you are!" she muttered. But oddly familiar. She didn't add that. They looked like fancy dress for disney villains.  
"You are the Mudblood they have employed at the school!"  
"I am Patricia Glossop, and a damn good teacher, thank you very much!" said Trish staring daggers back in return. The man's eyes suddenly looked like they would bop from his head and his mouth gapped open.  
"Glossop? Kitty?"  
"What?" asked Trish, raising an eyebrow.  
The woman, turned to look at her husband and then back at Trish. Her expression changed from disgust to shock.  
"It can't, she's meant, I mean, Lucian, she, she's a disgrace, a muggle, she can't be"  
"She is, look at her, can't you see it's her" Trish looked at them both like they'd gone mad. But there was something familiar about them, especially about the man. She stared at him, rooted to the spot. Why did she know him?  
"See! She knows me, she recognises me!" Said the man motioning at her. I do but I don't, thought Trish, her mind scrambling through every file it could find.  
"It was your idea to leave her with a muggle family in the first place!" shouted the woman  
"That doesn't matter now, she needs our help. Can you stand by and watch our only child be destroyed? We must help her!" The woman remained silent then they both turned to look at Trish, was still holding up the painting by pure force of shock. It's like every thought had run head first into a brick wall.  
"Only child?"  
"Katriana, you must listen carefully, and act quickly. You need to light the fire. You see that stand over there, that cloak was your mothers. She took it off before she was killed, it still has her wand in it." Trish let the portrait fall, both glad and strangely upset to see the faces disappear as she walked over to the cloak stand, doing rather than thinking. Her only thought being "Get me out of here, get me out of here"  
"She can't do magic, she's a muggle!"  
"She was raised by muggles, how do we know, she must try, its her only hope." Trish returned carrying the wand, and holding it more like a hammer than a wand, asked.  
"Now what?"  
"Make sure you are concentrating, sit by the fire, say Inflomora and flick your hand" said the man slowly.  
It took Trish a couple of attempts but she was more surprised than anyone when she was able to light the fire. She went to search for the floo powder when the man stopped her.  
"You need to cast another spell first, or they will know how you got away,"  
Trish did as she was told, saying "Consummo!" until eventually purple sparks spitting from the fire indicated that she had achieved something. Then she ran forward, tucking the wand into the belt of her dress and found the pot that sat on the fireplace containing the grey powder. She gathered a large handful into her hands and then closed her eyes and collected her thoughts. After a couple of seconds she threw the powder into the fire, turning it green. She yelled "Hogwartschoolofwitchcrftanwizdry" and jumped into the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any characters seem off, especially Voldy either A, let me know when and how or 2, put it down to the strenous after effects of years as a dead man in an arch.  
> And I'd like to apologise to Trish.


	13. Chapter Twelve - The One with Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Hogwarts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FEED BACK. I LOVE YOU ALL, VIRTUAL COOKIES FOR COMMENTS!

Trish was aware of a rushing, like someone was aiming a large hose right into her face, and there were voices, lots and lots voices. Some seem scared, some annoyed, some nothing at all. Then she felt like she was thrown against a wall, hard, but a rubber one and she rebounded. Then again and again. Roaring and dragging and bouncing and voices and weightlessness. She suddenly felt overwhelming sympathy for the ball in a pinball machine and then suddenly she was finally flung, unceremoniously out of a fireplace into what appeared to be an abandoned spare bedroom.   
She felt sick, really sick and threw up in the dusty fireplace, then staggered over to a bed, the room spinning worse than any drunken night Trish has ever had (and she'd had a few)She lay flat on her back on the bed, staring at the almost pitch black ceiling and fell asleep as it stopped moving. 

 

Down in the hall the school searches were finishing up, and there was a long queue by the fireplace as the guests are sent home as quickly as possible. They were using the fireplace in the staff room and the hall as well, but McGonagall resisted the urge to use more as a series of small and ultimately harmless explosions triggered in all three that they were already using simultaneously. Clearly they are overloading the system. But there weren't so many guests left now and the school had been fully search. Aurors had arrived and re-searched the school and searched the woods without success. Telling herself there was nothing more she could do, McGonagall headed to a classroom where everyone necessary (or who felt necessary) was gathering to hear Salazar and Flitwicks findings. Their faces did not look optimistic. 

 

As Trish came round she was aware of a growing sensation of cold and numbness. A brisk wind was blowing past her. She opened her eyes and was immediately aware that things were not as they should be. She was in a bed, but it wasn't her bed. And it wasn't her room. And even if it was her room, it certainly shouldn't be missing most of 3 walls and the roof. And all the floors that should probably have been above her. The corridor beyond the room was also in a bad way. Trish climbed carefully out of the bed, treading on a cold stone floor. A howling, freezing wind was blowing and the sky above was grey. 

"Hello? Professor McGonagall? Professor Flitwick? Dumbledore? Snape? Anybody?" No reply, but over the sound of the wind this was hardly surprising. Tentatively Trish stepped over the debris and made her way slowly into the corridor. Once there she made her way down to the top of a flight of stairs. They appeared to be intact so she stepped lightly taking a step at a time, until about halfway down a step gave way beneath her. She fell the rest of the way onto the broken brickwork below and picked herself up painfully. She'd twisted, maybe even broken her leg, but she picked herself up, limping on trying to find a sense of where in the school she was. Everything around her seemed broken or torn. Crumbling too. Dust in the air kept whipping up and stinging her eyes. 

 

Eventually she found her way, after much climbing and cursing to the entrance hall. When she turned into the great hall she was met by a scene of utter devastation. The ceiling was completely gone, now you really could see the sky. The whole of the right side and half of the back wall looked like they had been blown outwardss by an explosion to reveal the lake, which was grey. On the bank there should have been a forest, but the trees that remained standing were brown and leaveless. Most were gone, no colour was in the sky. The tapestries that had hung from the walls were ripped. The tables were over turned, smashed against either wall and covered in what appeared to be blast marks. Looking down on the floor she noticed, among scattered wands and scorch marks, Abelinda's scarf, burned and dusty. A few feet away she found Dumbledore's half moon spectacles, one side missing their glass completely, the other smashed. Next to this was the device that Professor Smith was never seen with out. She tried fiddling with it. Something snapped up and a ghostly kind of flat image of Professor Smith appeared. His face was more serious than she had ever seen him and he was looking right at her.

 

"Run Miss Glossop. Run now!. They're coming for you. Run!"


	14. Chapter Thirteen - The One with the Floo, or is it Flu???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura love's feedback, talking characterisation, plot, description, language. You can just tell me you like a boulder if you like, I just love talking to you guys! As always virtual cookies to people who talk to me!!

Trish woke screaming in the bed she had placed herself in. She sat up, breathing heavily and stared around her. The walls all seemed in tact, the fire was out, but she seemed warm enough, there was no wind howling around her. She stumbled to her feet and nervously walked out into the corridor. At the end she could see the stairs like in her dream. Cautiously she followed the route she had taken to the great hall in her dream. She couldn't remember ever being here before, but she must have been, because even this was like in her dream, except not in ruins. She was just coming down the main stairs when a voice screamed "Miss Glossop!" She screamed a little, jumping violently.  
Abelinda and Milo came running down behind her to meet her.  
"Miss are you alright!"  
"Miss! Miss! We heard you got kidnapped by He-who-shall-not-be-named"  
"Miss you look really pale! Are you gonna be sick?"  
Trish couldn't tell who was speaking and only caught half of it. Images of the school in ruins flashed through her mind, and a memory of the bumper cars on the floo suddenly made her want to retch.  
"No... Ok... sick... sick room... please"  
"Sick room?" questioned Abelinda as Milo tried his best to let Trish lean on his shoulder (not simple as his shoulder was a good half a foot from Trish's arm.  
"The infirmary. Okay Miss this way" 

 

Poppy Pomfrey was busy dealing with a seasonal case of the flu, with four students nicely steaming laying on beds as she mixed up another batter of the healing draught. Apparently things were happening in the hall, the Ball had been cancelled, and some incident had occurred; which none of the over excited students who had been running in and out had been clear about. Someone had been kidnapped but no one seemed to be able to agree, maybe the muggle teacher, maybe Helga Hufflepuff. Some even said Salazar Slytherin, although that seemed unlikely. The muggle teacher had upset the Minister for Magic, but by all accounts he was a bad sort who needed taking down a peg so he probably deserved it. She turned to see Patricia Glossop being in half carried into the Infirmary by Abelinda and Milo. Well that rumour was wrong then.  
"Miss Glossop, oh dear not you too, get her to the bed children"  
"Miss was sick all over the stairs" said Abelinda, her nose screwed up.  
"Sick? oh dear. Don't usually have vomiting with the flu"  
"No... wrong flu. Went... went in a fireplace. Felt worse than Oblivion at Alton Towers" mumbled Trish  
"Is Oblivion at Alton Towers or Chessington, Milo?" she asked slightly dazed.  
"I don't know miss, I haven't been to either" said Milo, looking concernedly at her. Why, he wasn't sure. Miss Glossop was always this random, but Miss Glossop wasn't usually this slurred.  
"I see, Floo sickness. First time and clearly you're very sensitive to things dear!" said Nurse Pomfrey turning away. Trish rolled her eyes then immediately regretted it, grabbing her head and trying to stop the room spinning.  
"Right, I'll get you something to settle your stomach and a sleeping draft. Children, back to your dorms"  
"It's going to taste foul isn't it" muttered Trish as Abelinda and Milo walked out.  
Nurse Pomfrey sniffed.  
"It's medicine, it's not supposed to taste nice."

McGonagall and Snape headed towards the main hall as the emergency meeting dispersed. The Aurors remained inside, talking tactics and spy moves and McGonagall tried not to think about how 3 of them had been dead not 6 months ago and half of them she struggled not to see as children, what could they do? She was distracted by the sound of Milo and Abelinda walking down the main stairs.  
"I've never seen anyone look THAT bad after using the floo"  
"You think something else happened?" asked Milo  
"Abelinda Malfoy! Milo! What are you doing out of your dormitory!"  
"We..." said Milo  
"We were just helping Miss Glossop to the Infirmary" said Abelinda  
"You are lying to me! Miss Gloss..." said McGonagall angrily.  
"We're not!" said Milo  
"Tell Professor McGonagall the truth" said Snape, watching them carefully.  
"Abby wanted me to show her .... ow!"Milo turned to eye Abelinda who was trying to look innocent whilst a kitten heal she shouldn't be wearing dug into Milo's foot.  
"Abelinda! Milo continue" snapped McGonagall.  
"She wanted me to show her something Miss Glossop showed me and Miss Glossop was like crawling down the stairs really slowly so we helped her to the infirmary and she was sick on the stairs and everything, Professor! Honestly I'm not lying!"  
"I will speak to both of you later!" said McGonagall before Snape could say the same thing.  
"But right now, Professor Snape and I must head to the Infirmary. 

"It looks like the muggle" said Snape, standing by the door, eyeing the sleeping form of Trish with suspicion.  
"She was muttering things about 'oblivion' and 'towers' and 'chess', but she seemed her usual self, in so far as someone being sick everywhere can" said Nurse Pomfrey.  
"And yet I myself saw the muggle outside the great hall and she was followed from that point by Helga Hufflepuff who saw her abducted by port key. Unless the port key brought them back into the school..."  
"Except that the school was searched towers to dungeon, twice. Every cupboard, even the room of requirement was tracked down again. She was not here!"  
"Miss Glossop, is Miss Glossop alright?" asked Professor Smith, as he and Professor Noble joined Snape, McGonagall and Nurse Pomfrey standing in the doorway to the Infirmary.  
"Is she alright?" repeated Professor Noble.  
"Yes, she has Floo sickness, I've given her something for it, she'll sleep for a few hours though."  
"Flu? I thought she was kidnapped." said Professor Smith.  
"She has Floo sickness, not THE flu.We can't explain it. She was, but now she's here. Whatever else happened she has travelled somewhere by Floo."  
Professor Smith and Professor Noble headed over to the bed. Professor Smith pulled out his device.  
"If we could work out which fireplace she..." said McGonagall.  
"Pointless, in the last hour the Floo has been used non stop by over a hundred to travel the length and breadth of the country." said Snape.  
"It's definitely her and she has been somewhere by Floo, several places. Residual temporal feedback suggests she's been to about twenty locations in the last hour. All of them within the walls of the school, I can't get any signature further back than that."  
"All within the school?" said Snape, eyeing the device as you'd eye a plastic hammer putting up a shelf.  
"Why would she be using the Floo within the school? It make's no sense! I told you there was something wrong, all those mini explosions and wailing sounds..."  
"Maybe it was her trying to get in" said Professor Noble.  
"What do you mean, Donna?" asked Professor Smith.  
"You know, like a phone when you try to call someone when they're calling you and you don't connect. Except it was her, she was the call."  
"And we had multiple fireplaces open all at once all..." said McGonagall.  
"calling out as she was calling in" finished Professor Smith.  
"But we still don't know where she was taken to, or where she escaped from" said Snape  
"Or where she came out" said Professor McGonagall. .  
"You know there is a really simple way to find all that out" said Professor Noble. They eyed her quizzically.  
"We could just ask her" she said, turning to Trish who was staring with horror at the device Professor Smith held inches from her face.


End file.
